THE DEATH OF SIR LAUNCELOT

By Edgar Lee Masters

2026-05-02

Sir Launcelot had fled to France

For the peace of Guinevere,

And many a noble knight was slain,

And Arthur lay on his bier.

Sir Launcelot took ship from France

And sailed across the sea.

He rode seven days through fair England

Till he came to Almesbury.

Then spake Sir Bors to Launcelot:

The old time is at end;

You have no more in England's realm

In east nor west a friend.

You have no friend in all England

Sith Mordred's war hath been,

And Queen Guinevere became a nun

To heal her soul of sin.

Sir Launcelot answered never a word

But rode to the west countree

Until through the forest he saw a light

That shone from a nunnery.

Sir Launcelot entered the cloister,

And the queen fell down in a swoon.

Oh blessed Jesu, saith the queen,

For thy mother's love, a boon.

Go hence, Sir Launcelot, saith the queen,

And let me win God's grace.

My heavy heart serves me no more

To look upon thy face.

Through you was wrought King Arthur's death,

Through you great war and wrake.

Leave me alone, let me bleed,

Pass by for Jesu's sake.

Then fare you well, saith Launcelot,

Sweet Madam, fare you well.

And sythen you have left the world

No more in the world I dwell.

Then up rose sad Sir Launcelot

And rode by wold and mere

Until he came to a hermitage

Where bode Sir Bedivere.

And there he put a habit on

And there did pray and fast.

And when Sir Bedivere told him all

His heart for sorrow brast.

How that Sir Mordred, traitorous knight

Betrayed his King and sire;

And how King Arthur wounded, died

Broken in heart's desire.

And so Sir Launcelot penance made,

And worked at servile toil;

And prayed the Bishop of Canterbury

His sins for to assoil.

His shield went clattering on the wall

To a dolorous wail of wind;

His casque was rust, his mantle dust

With spider webs entwined.

His listless horses left alone

Went cropping where they would,

To see the noblest knight of the world

Upon his sorrow brood.

Anon a Vision came in his sleep,

And thrice the Vision saith:

Go thou to Almesbury for thy sin,

Where lieth the queen in death.

Sir Launcelot cometh to Almesbury

And knelt by the dead queen's bier;

Oh none may know, moaned Launcelot,

What sorrow lieth here.

What love, what honor, what defeat

What hope of the Holy Grail.

The moon looked through the latticed glass

On the queen's face cold and pale.

Sir Launcelot kissed the cered cloth,

And none could stay his woe,

Her hair lay back from the oval brow,

And her nose was clear as snow.

They wrapped her body in cloth of Raines,

They put her in webs of lead.

They coffined her in white marble,

And sang a mass for the dead.

Sir Launcelot and seven knights

Bore torches around the bier.

They scattered myrrh and frankincense

On the corpse of Guinevere.

They put her in earth by King Arthur

To the chant of a doleful tune.

They heaped the earth on Guinevere

And Launcelot fell in a swoon.

Sir Launcelot went to the hermitage

Some Grace of God to find;

But never he ate, and never he drank

And there he sickened and dwined.

Sir Launcelot lay in a painful bed,

And spake with a dreary steven;

Sir Bishop, I pray you shrive my soul

And make it clean for heaven.

The Bishop houseled Sir Launcelot,

The Bishop kept watch and ward.

Bury me, saith Sir Launcelot,

In the earth of Joyous Guard.

Three candles burned the whole night through

Till the red dawn looked in the room.

And the white, white soul of Launcelot

Strove with a black, black doom.

I see the old witch Dame Brisen,

And Elaine so straight and tall —