King Arthur and His Round Table - Canto 2

I.

I' VE finish'd now three hundred lines and more,
And therefore I begin Canto the Second,
Just like those wandering ancient Bards of Yore;
They never laid a plan, nor ever reckon'd
What turning they should take the day before;
They follow'd where the lovely Muses beckon'd:
The Muses led them up to Mount Parnassus,
And that's the reason that they all surpass us.

II.

The Muses served those Heathens well enough —
Bold Britons take a Tankard, or a Bottle,
And when the bottle's out, a pinch of snuff,
And so proceed in spite of Aristotle —
Those Rules of his are dry, dogmatic stuff,
All life and fire they suffocate and throttle —
And therefore I adopt the mode I mention,
Trusting to native judgment and invention.

III.

This method will, I hope, appear defensible —
I shall begin by mentioning the Giants,
A race of mortals, brutal and insensible,
(Postponing the details of the Defiance,
Which came in terms so very reprehensible
From that barbarian sovereign King Ryence)
Displaying simpler manners, forms, and passions,
Unmix'd by transitory modes and fashions.

IV.

Before the Feast was ended, a Report
Fill'd every soul with horror and dismay;
Some Ladies, on their journey to the Court,
Had been surprised, and were convey'd away
By the Aboriginal Giants, to their Fort —
An unknown Fort — for Government, they say,
Had ascertain'd its actual existence,
But knew not its direction, nor its distance.

V.

A waiting damsel, crooked and mis-shaped,
Herself the witness of a woful scene,
From which, by miracle, she had escaped,
Appear'd before the Ladies and the Queen;
Her figure was funereal, veil'd and craped,
Her voice convulsed with sobs and sighs between,
That with the sad recital, and the sight,
Revenge and rage inflamed each worthy knight.

VI.

Sir Gawain rose without delay or dallying,
" Excuse us, madam, — we've no time to waste — "
And at the palace-gate you saw him sallying,
With other knights, equipp'd and arm'd in haste;
And there was Tristram making jests, and rallying
The poor mis-shapen Damsel, whom he placed
Behind him on a pillion, pad, or pannel;
He took, besides, his falcon and his spaniel.

VII.

But what with horror, and fatigue, and fright,
Poor soul, she could not recollect the way.
They reach'd the mountains on the second night,
And wander'd up and down till break of day,
When they discover'd, by the dawning light,
A lonely glen, where heaps of embers lay;
They found unleaven'd fragments, scorch'd and toasted,
And the remains of mules and horses roasted.

VIII.

Sir Tristram understood the Giants' courses —
He felt the embers, but the heat was out —
He stood contemplating the roasted horses,
And all at once, without suspense or doubt,
His own decided judgment thus enforces —
" The Giants must be somewhere here about! "
Demonstrating the carcasses, he shows
That they remain'd untouch'd by kites or crows;

IX.

" You see no traces of their sleeping here,
" No heap of leaves or heath, no Giant's nest —
" Their usual habitation must be near —
" They feed at sunset and retire to rest —
" A moment's search will set the matter clear. "
The fact turn'd out precisely as he guess'd;
And shortly after, scrambling through a gully,
He verified his own conjecture fully.

X.

He found a Valley, closed on every side,
Resembling that which Rasselas describes;
Six miles in length, and half as many wide,
Where the descendants of the Giant tribes
Lived in their ancient Fortress undescried:
(Invaders tread upon each other's kibes)
First came the Britons, afterwards the Roman,
Our patrimonial lands belong to no man:

XI.

So Horace said — and so the Giants found,
Expelled by fresh invaders in succession;
But they maintained tenaciously the ground
Of ancient, indefeasible possession,
And robb'd and ransack'd all the country round;
And ventured on this horrible transgression,
Claiming a right reserved to waste and spoil,
As Lords and lawful owners of the soil.

XII.

Huge mountains of immeasurable height
Encompass'd all the level Valley round,
With mighty slabs of rock, that sloped upright,
An insurmountable, enormous mound;
The very River vanish'd out of sight,
Absorb'd in secret channels under ground:
That Vale was so sequester'd and secluded,
All search for ages past it had eluded.

XIII.

High overhead was many a Cave and Den,
That with its strange construction seem'd to mock
All thought of how they were contrived, or when —
— Hewn inward in the huge suspended Rock,
The Tombs and Monuments of mighty men:
Such were the patriarchs of this ancient stock.
Alas! what pity that the present race
Should be so barbarous, and depraved, and base!

XIV.

For they subsisted (as I said) by pillage,
And the wild beasts which they pursued and chased:
Nor house, nor herdsman's hut, nor farm, nor village,
Within the lonely valley could be traced,
Nor roads, nor bounded fields, nor rural tillage,
But all was lonely, desolate, and waste.
The Castle which commanded the domain
Was suited to so rude and wild a Reign:

XV.

A Rock was in the centre, like a Cone,
Abruptly rising from a miry pool,
Where they beheld a Pile of massy stone,
Which masons of the rude primeval school
Had rear'd by help of Giant hands alone,
With rocky fragments unreduc'd by rule,
Irregular, like Nature more than Art,
Huge, rugged, and compact in every part.

XVI.

But on the other side a River went,
And there the craggy Rock and ancient Wall
Had crumbled down with shelving deep descent;
Time and the wearing stream had work'd its fall:
The modern Giants had repair'd the Rent,
But poor, reduced, and ignorant withal,
They patch'd it up, contriving as they could,
With stones, and earth, and palisades of wood;

XVII.

Sir Gawain tried a parley, but in vain —
A true bred Giant never trusts a Knight —
He sent a Herald, who return'd again
All torn to rags and perishing with fright;
A Trumpeter was sent, but he was slain —
To Trumpeters they bear a mortal spite:
When all conciliatory measures fail'd,
The Castle and the Fortress were assail'd.

XVIII.

But when the Giants saw them fairly under,
They shovell'd down a cataract of stones,
A hideous volley like a peal of thunder,
Bouncing and bounding down, and breaking bones,
Rending the earth, and riving rocks asunder;
Sir Gawain inwardly laments and groans,
Retiring last, and standing most exposed; —
Success seem'd hopeless, and the combat closed.

XIX.

A Council then was call'd, and all agreed
To call in succour from the Country round;
By regular approaches to proceed,
Intrenching, fortifying, breaking ground.
That morning Tristram happen'd to secede:
It seems his Falcon was not to be found;
He went in search of her, but some suspected
He went lest his advice should be neglected.

XX.

At Gawain's summons all the Country came;
At Gawain's summons all the people aided;
They called upon each other in his name,
And bid their neighbours work as hard as they did.
So well beloved was He, for very shame
They dug, they delved, entrench'd, and palisaded,
Till all the Fort was thoroughly blockaded,
And every Ford where Giants might have waded.

XXI.

Sir Tristram found his Falcon, bruised and lame,
After a tedious search, as he averr'd,
And was returning back the way he came
When in the neighbouring thicket something stirr'd,
And flash'd across the path, as bright as flame,
Sir Tristram follow'd it, and found a Bird
Much like a Pheasant, only crimson-red,
With a fine tuft of feathers on his head.

XXII.

Sir Tristram's mind — invention — powers of thought,
Were occupied, abstracted, and engaged,
Devising ways and means to have it caught
Alive — entire — to see it safely caged:
The Giants and their siege he set at nought
Compar'd with this new warfare that he waged.
He gain'd his object after three days wandering,
And three nights watching, meditating, pondering,

XXIII.

And to the Camp in triumph he return'd:
He makes them all admire the creature's crest,
And praise and magnify the prize he earn'd.
Sir Gawain rarely ventured on a jest,
But here his heart with indignation burn'd:
" Good Cousin, yonder stands an Eagle's nest!
— " A Prize for Fowlers such as you and me. " —
Sir Tristram answer'd mildly, " We shall see. "

XXIV.

Good humour was Sir Tristram's leading quality,
And in the present case he proved it such;
If he forbore, it was that in reality
His conscience smote him with a secret touch,
For having shock'd his worthy friend's formality —
He thought Sir Gawain had not said too much;
He walks apart with him — and he discourses
About their preparation and their forces —

XXV.

Approving every thing that had been done —
" It serves to put the Giants off their guard —
" Less hazard and less danger will be run —
" I doubt not we shall find them unprepared —
" The Castle will more easily be won,
" And many valuable lives be spared;
" The Ladies else, while we blockade and threaten,
" Will most infallibly be kill'd and eaten. "

XXVI.

Sir Tristram talk'd incomparably well;
His reasons were irrefragably strong.
As Tristram spoke Sir Gawain's spirits fell,
For he discover'd clearly before long
(What Tristram never would presume to tell),
That his whole system was entirely wrong;
In fact his confidence had much diminish'd
Since all the preparations had been finish'd.

XXVII.

" Indeed! " Sir Tristram said, " for aught we know —
" For aught that we can tell — this very night
The valley's entrance may be closed with snow,
" And we may starve and perish here outright —
" 'Tis better risking a decided blow —
" I own this weather puts me in a fright. "
In fine, this tedious conference to shorten.
Sir Gawain trusted to Sir Tristram's fortune.

XXVIII.

'Twas twilight, ere the wintry dawn had kist
With cold salute the mountain's chilly brow;
The level lawns were dark, a lake of mist
Inundated the vales and depths below,
When valiant Tristram, with a chosen list
Of bold and hardy men, prepared to go,
Ascending through the vapours dim and hoar,
A secret track, which he descried before.

XXIX.

If ever you attempted, when a boy,
To walk across the play-ground or the yard
Blindfolded, for an apple or a toy,
Which, when you reach'd the spot, was your reward,
You may conceive the difficult employ
Sir Tristram had, and that he found it hard,
Deprived of landmarks and the power of sight,
To steer their dark and doubtful course aright.

XXX.

They climb'd an hour or more with hand and knee;
(The distance of a fathom or a rood
Was farther than the keenest eye could see;)
At last the very ground on which they stood,
The broken turf, and many a batter'd tree —
The crush'd and shatter'd shrubs and underwood —
Apprised them that they were arrived once more
Where they were overwhelm'd the time before.

XXXI.

Sir Tristram saw the people in a fluster;
He took them to a shelter'd hollow place:
They crowded round like chickens in a cluster,
And Tristram, with an unembarrass'd face,
Proceeded quietly to take a muster,
To take a muster, and to state the case —
" It was, " he said, " an unexpected error,
" Enough to strike inferior minds with terror;

XXXII.

" But since they were assembled and collected, "
(All were assembled except nine or ten)
" He thought that their design might be effected;
" All things were easy to determined men.
" If they would take the track which he directed,
" And try their old adventure once again, "
He slapp'd his breast, and swore within an hour
That they should have the Castle in their power.

XXXIII.

This mountain was like others I have seen;
There was a stratum or a ridge of stone
Projecting high beyond the sloping green,
From top to bottom, like a spinal bone,
Or flight of steps, with gaps and breaks between —
A Copper-plate would make my meaning known
Better than words, and therefore with permission,
I'll give a Print of it the next Edition.

XXXIV.

Thither Sir Tristram with his comrades went,
For now the misty cloud was clear'd away,
And they must risk the perilous ascent,
Right in the Giants' front, in open day;
They ran to reach the shelter which it lent,
Before the battery should begin to play.
Their manner of ascending up that ridge
Was much like climbing by a broken bridge;

XXXV.

For there you scramble on from pier to pier,
Always afraid to lose your hold half way;
And as they clamber'd each successive tier
Of rugged upright rocks, I dare to say,
It was not altogether without fear —
Just fear enough to make brave people gay:
According to the words of Mr. Gray,
" They wound with toilsome march their long array. "

XXXVI.

The more alert and active upward sprung,
And let down ropes to drag their comrades after;
Those ropes were their own shirts together strung,
Stript off and twisted with such mirth and laughter,
That with their jokes the rocky echoes rung:
Like countrymen that on a beam or rafter
Attempt to pass a raging wintry flood,
Such was the situation where they stood:

XXXVII.

A wild tumultuous torrent raged around,
Of fragments tumbling from the mountain's height;
The whirling clouds of dust, the deafening sound,
The hurried motion that amazed the sight,
The constant quaking of the solid ground,
Environ'd them with phantoms of affright;
Yet with heroic hearts they held right on,
Till the last point of their ascent was won.

XXXVIII.

The Giants saw them on the topmost crown
Of the last rock, and threaten'd and defied —
" Down with the mangy dwarfs there! — Dash them down
" Down with the dirty pismires! " — Thus they cried.
Sir Tristram, with a sharp sarcastic frown,
In their own Giant jargon thus replied,
" Mullinger! — Cacamole! — and Mangonell!
" You cursed cannibals — I know you well —

XXXIX.

" I'll see that pate of yours upon a post,
" And your left-handed squinting brother's too —
" By Heaven and Earth, within an hour at most,
" I'll give the crows a meal of him and you —
" The wolves shall have you — either raw or roast —
" I'll make an end of all your cursed crew. "
These words he partly said, and partly sang,
As usual with the Giants, in their slang.

XL.

He darted forward to the mountain's brow —
The Giants ran away — they knew not why —
Sir Tristram gain'd the point — he knew not how —
He could account for it no more than I.
Such strange effects we witness often now;
Such strange experiments true Britons try
In sieges, and in skirmishes afloat,
In storming heights, and boarding from a boat.

XLI.

True Courage bears about a Charm or Spell —
It looks, I think, like an instinctive Law
By which superior natures daunt and quell
Frenchmen and foreigners with fear and awe.
I wonder if Philosophers can tell —
Can they explain the thing with all their jaw?
I can't explain it — but the fact is so,
A fact which every midshipman must know.

XLII.

Then instantly the signal was held out,
To shew Sir Gawain that the coast was clear:
They heard his Camp re-echo with a shout —
In half an hour Sir Gawain will be here.
But still Sir Tristram was perplext with doubt —
The crisis of the Ladies' fate drew near —
He dreaded what those poor defenceless creatures
Might suffer from such fierce and desperate natures.

XLIII.

The Giants, with their brutal want of sense,
In hurling stones to crush them with the fall,
And in their hurry taking them from thence,
Had half dismantled all the new-built Wall.
They left it here and there, a naked fence
Of stakes and palisades, upright and tall.
Sir Tristram form'd a sudden resolution,
And recommended it for execution.

XLIV.

" My Lads, " he cried, " an effort must be made
" To keep those Monsters half an hour in play,
" While Gawain is advancing to our aid,
" Or else the Ladies will be made away.
" By mounting close within the palisade,
" You'll parry their two-handed, dangerous sway
" Their Clubs and Maces: recollect my words,
" And use your daggers rather than your swords. "

XLV.

That service was most gallantly perform'd:
The Giants still endeavour'd to repel
And drive them from the breach that they had storm'd:
The foremost of the Crew was Mangonell.
At sight of him Sir Tristram's spirit warm'd;
With aim unerring Tristram's falchion fell,
Lopt off his Club and fingers at the knuckle,
And thus disabled that stupendous Chuckle.

XLVI.

The Giant ran, outrageous with the wound,
Roaring and bleeding, to the palisade;
Sir Tristram swerved aside, and reaching round,
Probed all his entrails with his poniard's blade:
His Giant limbs fall thundering on the ground,
His goggling eyes eternal slumbers shade;
Then by the head or heels, I know not which,
They dragg'd him forth, and tost him in the Ditch.

XLVII.

Sir Tristram, in the warfare that he waged,
Strove to attract the Giant's whole attention;
To keep it undivided and engaged,
He rack'd his fiery brain and his invention;
And taunted and reviled, and storm'd, and raged,
In terms far worse, and more than I can mention,
In the mean while, in a more sober manner,
Sir Gawain was advancing with his banner.

XLVIII.

But first I must commemorate in rhyme
Sir Tristrain's dextrous swordmanship and might,
(This incident appears to me sublime),
He struck a Giant's head off in the fight:
The head fell down of course, but for some time
The stupid, headless trunk remain'd upright;
For more than twenty seconds there it stood,
But ultimately fell from loss of blood.

XLIX.

Behold Sir Gawain with his valiant band;
He enters on the work with warmth and haste,
And slays a brace of Giants out of hand,
Sliced downward from the shoulder to the waist.
But our ichnography must now be plann'd,
The Keep or Inner Castle must be traced.
I wish myself at the concluding distich,
Although I think the thing characteristic.

L.

Facing your Entrance, just three yards behind,
There was a Mass of Stone of moderate height,
It stood before you like a screen or blind:
And there — on either hand to left and right —
Were sloping Parapets or Planes inclined,
On which two massy Stones were placed upright,
Secured by Staples and by leathern Ropes,
Which hinder'd them from sliding down the slopes.

LI.

" — Cousin, those Dogs have some device or gin! —
" — I'll run the gauntlet — and I'll stand a knock — "
He dash'd into the Gate through thick and thin —
He hew'd away the bands which held the block —
It rush'd along the slope with rumbling din,
And closed the entrance with a thundering shock,
(Just like those famous old Symplegades
Discover'd by the Classics in their seas.)

LII.

This was Sir Tristram — (as you may suppose)
He found some Giants wounded, others dead —
He shortly equalizes these with those;
But one poor Devil there was sick in bed,
In whose behalf the Ladies interpose;
Sir Tristram spared his life, because they said
That he was more humane, and mild, and clever,
And all the time had had an ague-fever.

LIII.

The Ladies? — They were tolerably well,
At least as well as could have been expected:
Many details I must forbear to tell,
Their toilet had been very much neglected;
But by supreme good luck it so befell
That when the Castle's capture was effected,
When those vile cannibals were overpower'd,
Only two fat Duennas were devour'd.

LIV.

Sir Tristram having thus secured the Fort,
And seen all safe, was climbing to the Wall,
(Meaning to leap into the outer Court;)
But when he came, he saved himself the fall,
Sir Gawain had been spoiling all the sport,
The Giants were demolish'd one and all:
He pull'd them up the Wall — they climb and enter —
Such was the winding up of this adventure.

LV.

The only real sufferer in the fight
Was a poor neighbouring Squire of little fame,
That came and join'd the party overnight;
He hobbled home, disabled with a maim
Which he received in tumbling from a height:
The Knights from Court had never heard his name,
Nor recollected seeing him before —
Two leopards' faces were the arms he bore.

LVI.

Thus Tristram, without loss of life or limb,
Conquer'd the Giants' Castle in a day;
But whether it were accident or whim
That kept him in the Woods so long away,
In any other mortal except him
I should not feel a doubt of what to say;
But he was wholly guided by his humour,
Indifferent to report and public rumour.

LVII.

It was besides imagined and suspected
That he had miss'd his course by deep design,
To take the track which Gawain had neglected —
I speak of others' notions, not of mine:
I question even if he recollected —
He might have felt a moment's wish to shine;
I only know that he made nothing of it,
Either for reputation or for profit.

LVIII.

The Ladies, by Sir Gawain's kind direction,
Proceeded instantaneously to Court,
To thank their Majesties for their protection.
Sir Gawain follow'd with a grand escort,
And was received with favour and affection.
Sir Tristram remain'd loitering in the Fort;
He thought the building and the scenery striking,
And that poor captive Giant took his liking.

LIX.

And now the thread of our Romance unravels,
Presenting new performers on the stage;
A Giant's education and his travels
Will occupy the next succeeding page:
But I begin to tremble at the cavils
Of this fastidious, supercilious age;
Reviews, and paragraphs in morning papers —
The prospect of them gives my Muse the vapours.

LX

" My dear, " says she, " I think it will be well
" To ascertain our losses or our gains:
" If this first sample should succeed and sell,
" We can renew the same melodious strains. "
Poor soul! she's had, I think, a tedious spell,
And ought to be consider'd for her pains.
And keeping of my company so long —
A moderate compliment would not be wrong.
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