The Parting of Lancelot and Guinevere.

“Be as be may,” said Lancelot,

“I go upon my quest.”

So mounted he and rode alone

Eight days into the West.

And to a nunnery came at last

Hard by a forest ride,

And walking in the cloister-shades

Was by the Queen espied.

And, when she saw him, swooned she thrice

And said, when speak she might,

“Ye marvel why I make this fare?

‘ Tis truly for the sight

Of yonder knight that standeth there,

And so must ever be;

Wherefore I pray you swiftly go

And call him unto me.”

And to them all said Guinevere

When Lancelot was brought

“Fair ladies, thro’ this man and me

Hath all this war been wrought,

And death of the most noblest knights

Of whom we have record.

And thro’ the love we loved is slain

My own most noble lord.

Wherefor, Sir Lancelot, wit thou well,

As thou dost wish my weal,

That I am set in such a plight

To get my dear soul heal.

For sinners were the Saints in Heaven

And trust I in God's grace

To sit that day at Christ's right hand

And see His Blessèd Face.

Therefore I heartily require

And do beseech thee sore

For all the love betwixt us was

To see my face no more.

But bid thee now, on God's behalf,

That thou my side forsake,

And to thy kingdom turn again,

And keep thy realm from wrake.

My heart, as well it loved thee once,

Serveth me not arights

To see thee, sithen is destroyed

The flower of kings and knights.

Therefore now get thee to thy realm

And take to thee a wife

And live with her in joy and bliss,

And pray God mend my life.”

“Nay, Madam,” said Sir Lancelot,

“That shall I never do,

For I should never be so false

Of that I promised you.

But unto the same destiny

As you I will me take,

And cast me specially to pray

For you, for Jesu's sake.

In you I take record of God,

Mine earthly joy I found,

And had you willed had taken you

To dwell on mine own ground.

But sithen you are thus disposed

And will the world forsake,

Be now ensured that I likewise

To penance will me take,

And so, if haply I may find

A hermit white or grey

Who shall receive and shrive me clean,

While lasteth life will pray.

Wherefore I pray you kiss me now,

And never then no mo.”

“Nay,” said the Queen, “Oh! get thee gone,

That can I never do.”

So parted they with wondrous dole

And swooned for their great teen

And to her chamber scarce on live

Her ladies bare the Queen.

But Lancelot woke at last and went

And took his horse from keeping,

And all that day and all that night

Rode thro’ a forest weeping.