The poetical works of George MacDonald in two volumes — Volume 2

THE SANGREAL:

A Part Of The Story Omitted In The Old Romances

I How sir Galahad despaired of finding the Grail Through the wood the sunny day   Glimmered sweetly glad; Through the wood his weary way   Rode sir Galahad. All about stood open porch,   Long-drawn cloister dim; 'Twas a wavering wandering church   Every side of him. On through columns arching high,   Foliage-vaulted, he Rode in thirst that made him sigh,   Longing miserably. Came the moon, and through the trees   Glimmered faintly sad; Withered, worn, and ill at ease   Down lay Galahad; Closed his eyes and took no heed   What might come or pass; Heard his hunger-busy steed   Cropping dewy grass. Cool and juicy was the blade,   Good to him as wine: For his labour he was paid,   Galahad must pine! Late had he at Arthur's board,   Arthur strong and wise, Pledged the cup with friendly lord,   Looked in ladies' eyes; Now, alas! he wandered wide,   Resting never more, Over lake and mountain-side,   Over sea and shore! Swift in vision rose and fled   All he might have had; Weary tossed his restless head,   And his heart grew sad. With the lowliest in the land   He a maiden fair Might have led with virgin hand   From the altar-stair: Youth away with strength would glide,   Age bring frost and woe; Through the world so dreary wide   Mateless he must go! Lost was life and all its good,   Gone without avail! All his labour never would   Find the Holy Grail! II How sir Galahad found and lost the Grail Galahad was in the night,   And the wood was drear; But to men in darksome plight   Radiant things appear: Wings he heard not floating by,   Heard no heavenly hail; But he started with a cry,   For he saw the Grail. Hid from bright beholding sun,   Hid from moonlight wan, Lo, from age-long darkness won,   It was seen of man! Three feet off, on cushioned moss,   As if cast away, Homely wood with carven cross,   Rough and rude it lay! To his knees the knight rose up,   Loosed his gauntlet-band; Fearing, daring, toward the cup   Went his naked hand; When, as if it fled from harm,   Sank the holy thing, And his eager following arm   Plunged into a spring. Oh the thirst, the water sweet!   Down he lay and quaffed, Quaffed and rose up on his feet,   Rose and gayly laughed; Fell upon his knees to thank,   Loved and lauded there; Stretched him on the mossy bank,   Fell asleep in prayer; Dreamed, and dreaming murmured low   Ave, pater, creed; When the fir-tops gan to glow   Waked and called his steed; Bitted him and drew his girth,   Watered from his helm: Happier knight or better worth   Was not in the realm! Belted on him then his sword,   Braced his slackened mail; Doubting said: "I dreamed the Lord   Offered me the Grail." III How sir Galahad gave up the Quest for the Grail Ere the sun had cast his light   On the water's face, Firm in saddle rode the knight   From the holy place, Merry songs began to sing,   Let his matins bide; Rode a good hour pondering,   And was turned aside, Saying, "I will henceforth then   Yield this hopeless quest; Tis a dream of holy men   This ideal Best!" "Every good for miracle   Heart devout may hold; Grail indeed was that fair well   Full of water cold! "Not my thirst alone it stilled   But my soul it stayed; And my heart, with gladness filled,   Wept and laughed and prayed! "Spectral church with cryptic niche   I will seek no more; That the holiest Grail is, which   Helps the need most sore!" And he spake with speech more true   Than his thought indeed, For not yet the good knight knew   His own sorest need. IV How sir Galahad sought yet again for the Grail On he rode, to succour bound,   But his faith grew dim; Wells for thirst he many found,   Water none for him. Never more from drinking deep   Rose he up and laughed; Never more did prayerful sleep   Follow on the draught. Good the water which they bore,   Plenteously it flowed, Quenched his thirst, but, ah, no more   Eased his bosom's load! For the Best no more he sighed;   Rode as in a trance; Life grew poor, undignified,

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1

In a lovely garden walking   Two lovers went hand in hand; Two wan, worn figures, talking   They sat in the flowery land. On the cheek they kissed one another,   On the mouth with sweet refrain; Fast held they each the other,   And were young and well again. Two little bells rang shrilly—   The dream went with the hour: She lay in the cloister stilly,   He far in the dungeon-tower! From Uhland.