At Camelot, high above the yellowing woods,
And from the crown thereof a carcanet
Came Tristram, saying, “Why skip ye so, Sir Fool?”
For Arthur and Sir Lancelot riding once
From roots like some black coil of carven snakes,
Bearing an eagle’s nest: and through the tree
Rushed ever a rainy wind, and through the wind
Pierced ever a child’s cry: and crag and tree
This ruby necklace thrice around her neck,
Then gave it to his Queen to rear: the Queen
But coldly acquiescing14, in her white arms
Received, and after loved it tenderly,
And named it Nestling; so forgot herself
A moment, and her cares; till that young life
Past from her; and in time the carcanet
So she, delivering it to Arthur, said,
To whom the King, “Peace to thine eagle-borne
Dead nestling, and this honour after death,
Why ye not wear on arm, or neck, or zone
And Lancelot won, methought, for thee to wear.”
“Would rather you had let them fall,” she cried,
“Plunge and be lost—ill-fated as they were,
A bitterness to me!—ye look amazed,
Not knowing they were lost as soon as given—
Slid from my hands, when I was leaning out
Above the river—that unhappy child
With these rich jewels, seeing that they came
Not from the skeleton of a brother-slayer,
But the sweet body of a maiden babe.
May win them for the purest of my maids.”
She ended, and the cry of a great jousts
From Camelot in among the faded fields
To furthest towers; and everywhere the knights
Armed for a day of glory before the King.
But on the hither side of that loud morn
Into the hall staggered, his visage ribbed
From ear to ear with dogwhip-weals, his nose
Bridge-broken, one eye out, and one hand off,
“My churl, for whom Christ died, what evil beast
Then, sputtering29 through the hedge of splintered teeth,
Yet strangers to the tongue, and with blunt stump
Pitch-blackened sawing the air, said the maimed churl,
“He took them and he drave them to his tower—
Some hold he was a table-knight of thine—
A hundred goodly ones—the Red Knight, he—
Lord, I was tending swine, and the Red Knight
Brake in upon me and drave them to his tower;
And when I called upon thy name as one
That doest right by gentle and by churl,
Save that he sware me to a message, saying,
Have founded my Round Table in the North,
And whatsoever34 his own knights have sworn
My knights have sworn the counter to it—and say
My tower is full of harlots, like his court,
To be none other than themselves—and say
My knights are all adulterers like his own,
But mine are truer, seeing they profess
To be none other; and say his hour is come,
The heathen are upon him, his long lance
Broken, and his Excalibur a straw.’”
Then Arthur turned to Kay the seneschal,
Like a king’s heir, till all his hurts be whole.
The heathen—but that ever-climbing wave,
Hath lain for years at rest—and renegades,
Thieves, bandits, leavings of confusion, whom
Friends, through your manhood and your fealty,—now
Make their last head like Satan in the North.
My younger knights, new-made, in whom your flower
Waits to be solid fruit of golden deeds,
The loneliest ways are safe from shore to shore.
But thou, Sir Lancelot, sitting in my place
Enchaired tomorrow, arbitrate the field;
Only to yield my Queen her own again?
Speak, Lancelot, thou art silent: is it well?”
Thereto Sir Lancelot answered, “It is well:
The leading of his younger knights to me.
Else, for the King has willed it, it is well.”
Then Arthur rose and Lancelot followed him,
And while they stood without the doors, the King
Turned to him saying, “Is it then so well?
Or mine the blame that oft I seem as he
Of whom was written, ‘A sound is in his ears’?
The foot that loiters, bidden go,—the glance
That only seems half-loyal to command,—
A manner somewhat fallen from reverence—
Or have I dreamed the bearing of our knights
Tells of a manhood ever less and lower?
Or whence the fear lest this my realm, upreared,
Reel back into the beast, and be no more?”
Down the slope city rode, and sharply turned
Watched her lord pass, and knew not that she sighed.
Then ran across her memory the strange rhyme
Of bygone Merlin, “Where is he who knows?
From the great deep to the great deep he goes.”
But when the morning of a tournament,
By these in earnest those in mockery called
The Tournament of the Dead Innocence,
Brake with a wet wind blowing, Lancelot,
And down a streetway hung with folds of pure
White samite, and by fountains running wine,
Where children sat in white with cups of gold,
Moved to the lists, and there, with slow sad steps
He glanced and saw the stately galleries,
He looked but once, and vailed his eyes again.
The sudden trumpet sounded as in a dream
To ears but half-awaked, then one low roll
Of Autumn thunder, and the jousts began:
And ever the wind blew, and yellowing leaf
Went down it. Sighing weariedly, as one
Who sits and gazes on a faded fire,
When all the goodlier guests are past away,
Sat their great umpire, looking o’er the lists.
He saw the laws that ruled the tournament
Broken, but spake not; once, a knight cast down
Before his throne of arbitration62 cursed
And once the laces of a helmet cracked,
And showed him, like a vermin in its hole,
Modred, a narrow face: anon he heard
The voice that billowed round the barriers roar
An ocean-sounding welcome to one knight,
But newly-entered, taller than the rest,
And armoured all in forest green, whereon
There tript a hundred tiny silver deer,
With ever-scattering berries, and on shield
A spear, a harp, a bugle—Tristram—late
From overseas in Brittany returned,
And marriage with a princess of that realm,
Isolt the White—Sir Tristram of the Woods—
Whom Lancelot knew, had held sometime with pain
The burthen off his heart in one full shock
With Tristram even to death: his strong hands gript
Drew from before Sir Tristram to the bounds,
What faith have these in whom they sware to love?
The glory of our Round Table is no more.”
Not speaking other word than “Hast thou won?
Art thou the purest, brother? See, the hand
Wherewith thou takest this, is red!” to whom
Tristram, half plagued by Lancelot’s languorous73 mood,
Made answer, “Ay, but wherefore toss me this
Like a dry bone cast to some hungry hound?
Lest be thy fair Queen’s fantasy. Strength of heart
And might of limb, but mainly use and skill,
Are winners in this pastime of our King.
My hand—belike the lance hath dript upon it—
No blood of mine, I trow; but O chief knight,
Right arm of Arthur in the battlefield,
Great brother, thou nor I have made the world;
Be happy in thy fair Queen as I in mine.”
And Tristram round the gallery made his horse
“Fair damsels, each to him who worships each
This day my Queen of Beauty is not here.”
And most of these were mute, some angered, one
Murmuring, “All courtesy is dead,” and one,
“The glory of our Round Table is no more.”
Went glooming down in wet and weariness:
But under her black brows a swarthy one
Our one white day of Innocence hath past,
Though somewhat draggled at the skirt. So be it.
The snowdrop only, flowering through the year,
Would make the world as blank as Winter-tide.
Come—let us gladden their sad eyes, our Queen’s
And Lancelot’s, at this night’s solemnity
With all the kindlier colours of the field.”
So dame and damsel glittered at the feast
Variously gay: for he that tells the tale
Likened 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
So dame and damsel cast the simple white,
And glowing in all colours, the live grass,
Beyond all use, that, half-amazed, the Queen,
And wroth at Tristram and the lawless jousts,
Brake up their sports, then slowly to her bower
And little Dagonet on the morrow morn,
High over all the yellowing Autumn-tide,
Danced like a withered leaf before the hall.
Then Tristram saying, “Why skip ye so, Sir Fool?”
Wheeled round on either heel, Dagonet replied,
“Belike for lack of wiser company;
Or being fool, and seeing too much wit
Makes the world rotten, why, belike I skip
To know myself the wisest knight of all.”
“Ay, fool,” said Tristram, “but ’tis eating dry
To dance without a catch, a roundelay
To dance to.” Then he twangled on his harp,
And while he twangled little Dagonet stood
But when the twangling ended, skipt again;
And being asked, “Why skipt ye not, Sir Fool?”
Made answer, “I had liefer twenty years
Skip to the broken music of my brains
Than any broken music thou canst make.”
Then Tristram, waiting for the quip to come,
“Good now, what music have I broken, fool?”
And little Dagonet, skipping, “Arthur, the King’s;
For when thou playest that air with Queen Isolt,
Thou makest broken music with thy bride,
Her daintier namesake down in Brittany—
And so thou breakest Arthur’s music too.”
“Save for that broken music in thy brains,
Sir Fool,” said Tristram, “I would break thy head.
Fool, I came too late, the heathen wars were o’er,
The life had flown, we sware but by the shell—
I am but a fool to reason with a fool—
And harken if my music be not true.
“‘Free love—free field—we love but while we may:
The woods are hushed, their music is no more:
New leaf, new life—the days of frost are o’er:
New life, new love, to suit the newer day:
New loves are sweet as those that went before:
Free love—free field—we love but while we may.’
Not stood stockstill. I made it in the woods,
And heard it ring as true as tested gold.”
“Friend, did ye mark that fountain yesterday
Made to run wine?—but this had run itself
All out like a long life to a sour end—
And them that round it sat with golden cups
To hand the wine to whosoever came—
The twelve small damosels white as Innocence,
In honour of poor Innocence the babe,
Who left the gems which Innocence the Queen
Lent to the King, and Innocence the King
Gave for a prize—and one of those white slips
Handed her cup and piped, the pretty one,
‘Drink, drink, Sir Fool,’ and thereupon I drank,
And Tristram, “Was it muddier than thy gibes?
Is all the laughter gone dead out of thee?—
Not marking how the knighthood mock thee, fool—
‘Fear God: honour the King—his one true knight—
Who knew thee swine enow before I came,
Smuttier than blasted grain: but when the King
Had made thee fool, thy vanity so shot up
It frighted all free fool from out thy heart;
Which left thee less than fool, and less than swine,
A naked aught—yet swine I hold thee still,
For I have flung thee pearls and find thee swine.”
In lieu of hers, I’ll hold thou hast some touch
Of music, since I care not for thy pearls.
Swine? I have wallowed, I have washed—the world
Is flesh and shadow—I have had my day.
The dirty nurse, Experience, in her kind
I have had my day and my philosophies—
And thank the Lord I am King Arthur’s fool.
Trooped round a Paynim harper once, who thrummed
On such a wire as musically as thou
Some such fine song—but never a king’s fool.”
And Tristram, “Then were swine, goats, asses, geese
Had such a mastery of his mystery
That he could harp his wife up out of hell.”
Then Dagonet, turning on the ball of his foot,
“And whither harp’st thou thine? down! and thyself
Down! and two more: a helpful harper thou,
That harpest downward! Dost thou know the star
We call the harp of Arthur up in heaven?”
And Tristram, “Ay, Sir Fool, for when our King
Was victor wellnigh day by day, the knights,
Glorying in each new glory, set his name
High on all hills, and in the signs of heaven.”
And Dagonet answered, “Ay, and when the land
Was freed, and the Queen false, ye set yourself
And whether he were King by courtesy,
The black king’s highway, got so far, and grew
With Arthur’s vows on the great lake of fire.
Tuwhoo! do ye see it? do ye see the star?”
And Dagonet, “Nay, nor will: I see it and hear.
It makes a silent music up in heaven,
And I, and Arthur and the angels hear,
And then we skip.” “Lo, fool,” he said, “ye talk
Fool’s treason: is the King thy brother fool?”
“Ay, ay, my brother fool, the king of fools!
From burning spurge, honey from hornet-combs,
And men from beasts—Long live the king of fools!”
And down the city Dagonet danced away;
But through the slowly-mellowing avenues
Rode Tristram toward Lyonnesse and the west.
Before him fled the face of Queen Isolt
With ruby-circled neck, but evermore
Made dull his inner, keen his outer eye
For all that walked, or crept, or perched, or flew.
Unruffling waters re-collect the shape
Of one that in them sees himself, returned;
But at the slot or fewmets of a deer,
Or even a fallen feather, vanished again.
So on for all that day from lawn to lawn
Through many a league-long bower he rode. At length
Furze-crammed, and bracken-rooft, the which himself
Built for a summer day with Queen Isolt
Appearing, sent his fancy back to where
She lived a moon in that low lodge with him:
Till Mark her lord had past, the Cornish King,
With six or seven, when Tristram was away,
And now that desert lodge to Tristram lookt
So sweet, that halting, in he past, and sank
The tonguesters of the court she had not heard.
After she left him lonely here? a name?
Was it the name of one in Brittany,
Isolt, the daughter of the King? “Isolt
Of the white hands” they called her: the sweet name
Who served him well with those white hands of hers,
And loved him well, until himself had thought
But left her all as easily, and returned.
The black-blue Irish hair and Irish eyes
His brows upon the drifted leaf and dreamed.
Between Isolt of Britain and his bride,
And showed them both the ruby-chain, and both
Began to struggle for it, till his Queen
Graspt it so hard, that all her hand was red.
Then cried the Breton, “Look, her hand is red!
These be no rubies, this is frozen blood,
And melts within her hand—her hand is hot
With ill desires, but this I gave thee, look,
Is all as cool and white as any flower.”
Followed a rush of eagle’s wings, and then
A whimpering of the spirit of the child,
Because the twain had spoiled her carcanet.
He dreamed; but Arthur with a hundred spears
Rode far, till o’er the illimitable reed,
Glared on a huge machicolated tower
That stood with open doors, whereout was rolled
A roar of riot, as from men secure
Among their harlot-brides, an evil song.
“Lo there,” said one of Arthur’s youth, for there,
High on a grim dead tree before the tower,
A goodly brother of the Table Round
Swung by the neck: and on the boughs a shield
Showing a shower of blood in a field noir,
Till each would clash the shield, and blow the horn.
But Arthur waved them back. Alone he rode.
Then at the dry harsh roar of the great horn,
That sent the face of all the marsh aloft
An ever upward-rushing storm and cloud
Even to tipmost lance and topmost helm,
Lo! art thou not that eunuch-hearted King
Who fain had clipt free manhood from the world—
The woman-worshipper? Yea, God’s curse, and I!
Slain was the brother of my paramour
And snivel, being eunuch-hearted too,
Sware by the scorpion-worm that twists in hell,
And stings itself to everlasting133 death,
To hang whatever knight of thine I fought
And tumbled. Art thou King? —Look to thy life!”
He ended: Arthur knew the voice; the face
Wellnigh was helmet-hidden, and the name
Went wandering somewhere darkling in his mind.
But let the drunkard, as he stretched from horse
To strike him, overbalancing his bulk,
Down from the causeway heavily to the swamp
Fall, as the crest of some slow-arching wave,
Heard in dead night along that table-shore,
Drops flat, and after the great waters break
Whitening for half a league, and thin themselves,
Far over sands marbled with moon and cloud,
From less and less to nothing; thus he fell
Head-heavy; then the knights, who watched him, roared
And shouted and leapt down upon the fallen;
Nor heard the King for their own cries, but sprang
Through open doors, and swording right and left
Men, women, on their sodden faces, hurled
Till all the rafters rang with woman-yells,
Then, echoing yell with yell, they fired the tower,
Which half that autumn night, like the live North,
Red-pulsing up through Alioth and Alcor,
About it, as the water Moab saw
Came round by the East, and out beyond them flushed
So all the ways were safe from shore to shore,
But in the heart of Arthur pain was lord.
Then, out of Tristram waking, the red dream
Fled with a shout, and that low lodge returned,
Mid-forest, and the wind among the boughs.
He whistled his good warhorse left to graze
And rode beneath an ever-showering leaf,
Till one lone woman, weeping near a cross,
Stayed him. “Why weep ye?” “Lord,” she said, “my man
Hath left me or is dead;” whereon he thought—
“What, if she hate me now? I would not this.
What, if she love me still? I would not that.
I know not what I would”—but said to her,
“Yet weep not thou, lest, if thy mate return,
He find thy favour changed and love thee not”—
Then pressing day by day through Lyonnesse
Last in a roky hollow, belling, heard
The hounds of Mark, and felt the goodly hounds
Tintagil, half in sea, and high on land,
A crown of towers.
A low sea-sunset glorying round her hair
And glossy-throated grace, Isolt the Queen.
And when she heard the feet of Tristram grind
Flushed, started, met him at the doors, and there
Belted his body with her white embrace,
Crying aloud, “Not Mark—not Mark, my soul!
The footstep fluttered me at first: not he:
Catlike through his own castle steals my Mark,
But warrior-wise thou stridest through his halls
Who hates thee, as I him—even to the death.
Quicken within me, and knew that thou wert nigh.”
To whom Sir Tristram smiling, “I am here.
Let be thy Mark, seeing he is not thine.”
And drawing somewhat backward she replied,
“Can he be wronged who is not even his own,
Scratched, bitten, blinded, marred me somehow—Mark?
What rights are his that dare not strike for them?
Not lift a hand—not, though he found me thus!
But harken! have ye met him? hence he went
Today for three days’ hunting—as he said—
And so returns belike within an hour.
Mark’s way, my soul!—but eat not thou with Mark,
Because he hates thee even more than fears;
Nor drink: and when thou passest any wood
Close vizor, lest an arrow from the bush
Should leave me all alone with Mark and hell.
My God, the measure of my hate for Mark
Is as the measure of my love for thee.”
So, plucked one way by hate and one by love,
Drained of her force, again she sat, and spake
To Tristram, as he knelt before her, saying,
“O hunter, and O blower of the horn,
Harper, and thou hast been a rover too,
For, ere I mated with my shambling king,
Ye twain had fallen out about the bride
Of one—his name is out of me—the prize,
If prize she were—(what marvel—she could see)—
Thine, friend; and ever since my craven seeks
What dame or damsel have ye kneeled to last?”
Here now to my Queen Paramount of love
And loveliness—ay, lovelier than when first
Her light feet fell on our rough Lyonnesse,
Sailing from Ireland.”
Softly laughed Isolt;
“Flatter me not, for hath not our great Queen
“Her beauty is her beauty, and thine thine,
And thine is more to me—soft, gracious, kind—
Lancelot; for I have seen him wan enow
To make one doubt if ever the great Queen
Have yielded him her love.”
To whom Isolt,
“Ah then, false hunter and false harper, thou
That Guinevere had sinned against the highest,
And I—misyoked with such a want of man—
That I could hardly sin against the lowest.”
He answered, “O my soul, be comforted!
If this be sweet, to sin in leading-strings,
If here be comfort, and if ours be sin,
Crowned warrant had we for the crowning sin
That made us happy: but how ye greet me—fear
And fault and doubt—no word of that fond tale—
Thy deep heart-yearnings, thy sweet memories
Of Tristram in that year he was away.”
And, saddening on the sudden, spake Isolt,
“I had forgotten all in my strong joy
To see thee—yearnings?—ay! for, hour by hour,
Here in the never-ended afternoon,
O sweeter than all memories of thee,
Deeper than any yearnings after thee
Seemed those far-rolling, westward-smiling seas,
Watched from this tower. Isolt of Britain dashed
Before Isolt of Brittany on the strand,
Would that have chilled her bride-kiss? Wedded her?
Fought in her father’s battles? wounded there?
The King was all fulfilled with gratefulness,
And she, my namesake of the hands, that healed
Well—can I wish her any huger wrong
Than having known thee? her too hast thou left
To pine and waste in those sweet memories.
O were I not my Mark’s, by whom all men
Are noble, I should hate thee more than love.”
And Tristram, fondling her light hands, replied,
“Grace, Queen, for being loved: she loved me well.
Did I love her? the name at least I loved.
Isolt?—I fought his battles, for Isolt!
The night was dark; the true star set. Isolt!
The name was ruler of the dark—Isolt?
Pale-blooded, she will yield herself to God.”
And Isolt answered, “Yea, and why not I?
Mine is the larger need, who am not meek,
Pale-blooded, prayerful. Let me tell thee now.
Here one black, mute midsummer night I sat,
Lonely, but musing on thee, wondering where,
Murmuring a light song I had heard thee sing,
And once or twice I spake thy name aloud.
Then flashed a levin-brand; and near me stood,
Mark’s way to steal behind one in the dark—
For there was Mark: ‘He has wedded her,’ he said,
So shook to such a roar of all the sky,
That here in utter dark I swooned away,
And woke again in utter dark, and cried,
‘I will flee hence and give myself to God’—
And thou wert lying in thy new leman’s arms.”
“May God be with thee, sweet, when old and gray,
And past desire!” a saying that angered her.
“‘May God be with thee, sweet, when thou art old,
And sweet no more to me!’ I need Him now.
For when had Lancelot uttered aught so gross
Even to the swineherd’s malkin in the mast?
The greater man, the greater courtesy.
Far other was the Tristram, Arthur’s knight!
Becomes thee well—art grown wild beast thyself.
How darest thou, if lover, push me even
In fancy from thy side, and set me far
In the gray distance, half a life away,
Her to be loved no more? Unsay it, unswear!
Flatter me rather, seeing me so weak,
Thy marriage and mine own, that I should suck
Lies like sweet wines: lie to me: I believe.
Will ye not lie? not swear, as there ye kneel,
And solemnly as when ye sware to him,
The man of men, our King—My God, the power
Was once in vows when men believed the King!
They lied not then, who sware, and through their vows
The King prevailing162 made his realm:—I say,
Swear to me thou wilt love me even when old,
Gray-haired, and past desire, and in despair.”
More than I mine? Lied, say ye? Nay, but learnt,
My knighthood taught me this—ay, being snapt—
We run more counter to the soul thereof
Than had we never sworn. I swear no more.
I swore to the great King, and am forsworn.
For once—even to the height—I honoured him.
‘Man, is he man at all?’ methought, when first
That victor of the Pagan throned in hall—
His hair, a sun that rayed from off a brow
Like hillsnow high in heaven, the steel-blue eyes,
The golden beard that clothed his lips with light—
With Merlin’s mystic babble about his end
Amazed me; then, his foot was on a stool
Shaped as a dragon; he seemed to me no man,
Being amazed: but this went by— The vows!
O ay—the wholesome madness of an hour—
They served their use, their time; for every knight
Believed himself a greater than himself,
And every follower eyed him as a God;
Till he, being lifted up beyond himself,
And so the realm was made; but then their vows—
First mainly through that sullying of our Queen—
Dropt down from heaven? washed up from out the deep?
They failed to trace him through the flesh and blood
Of our old kings: whence then? a doubtful lord
To bind them by inviolable vows,
Which flesh and blood perforce would violate:
For feel this arm of mine—the tide within
Red with free chase and heather-scented air,
Pulsing full man; can Arthur make me pure
As any maiden child? lock up my tongue
From uttering freely what I freely hear?
Bind me to one? The wide world laughs at it.
And worldling of the world am I, and know
The ptarmigan that whitens ere his hour
Woos his own end; we are not angels here
Nor shall be: vows—I am woodman of the woods,
And hear the garnet-headed yaffingale
Mock them: my soul, we love but while we may;
And therefore is my love so large for thee,
Seeing it is not bounded save by love.”
Here ending, he moved toward her, and she said,
“Good: an I turned away my love for thee
For courtesy wins woman all as well
As valour may, but he that closes both
Is perfect, he is Lancelot—taller indeed,
This knightliest of all knights, and cast thee back
Thine own small saw, ‘We love but while we may,’
Well then, what answer?”
He that while she spake,
The jewels, had let one finger lightly touch
The warm white apple of her throat, replied,
“Press this a little closer, sweet, until—
Come, I am hungered and half-angered—meat,
Wine, wine—and I will love thee to the death,
And out beyond into the dream to come.”
So then, when both were brought to full accord,
She rose, and set before him all he willed;
And after these had comforted the blood
With meats and wines, and satiated their hearts—
Now talking of their woodland paradise,
The deer, the dews, the fern, the founts, the lawns;
Now mocking at the much ungainliness,
And craven shifts, and long crane legs of Mark—
Then Tristram laughing caught the harp, and sang:
“Ay, ay, O ay—the winds that bend the brier!
Ay, ay, O ay—a star was my desire,
And one was far apart, and one was near:
Ay, ay, O ay—the winds that bow the grass!
And one was water and one star was fire,
And one will ever shine and one will pass.
Ay, ay, O ay—the winds that move the mere.”
And swung the ruby carcanet. She cried,
“The collar of some Order, which our King
Hath newly founded, all for thee, my soul,
For thee, to yield thee grace beyond thy peers.”
“Not so, my Queen,” he said, “but the red fruit
Grown on a magic oak-tree in mid-heaven,
And won by Tristram as a tourney-prize,
And hither brought by Tristram for his last
Love-offering and peace-offering unto thee.”
He spoke, he turned, then, flinging round her neck,
Claspt it, and cried, “Thine Order, O my Queen!”
But, while he bowed to kiss the jewelled throat,
Out of the dark, just as the lips had touched,
Behind him rose a shadow and a shriek—
That night came Arthur home, and while he climbed,
All in a death-dumb autumn-dripping gloom,
The stairway to the hall, and looked and saw
The great Queen’s bower was dark,—about his feet
“What art thou?” and the voice about his feet
Sent up an answer, sobbing, “I am thy fool,
And I shall never make thee smile again.”
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1
knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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2
withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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3
harp
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| n.竖琴；天琴座 | |
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ruby
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| n.红宝石，红宝石色 | |
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jousts
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| （骑士）骑着马用长矛打斗( joust的名词复数 )； 格斗，竞争 | |
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winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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wail
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| vt./vi.大声哀号，恸哭；呼啸，尖啸 | |
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stump
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| n.残株，烟蒂，讲演台；v.砍断，蹒跚而走 | |
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mid
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| adj.中央的，中间的 | |
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perilous
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| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
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beak
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| n.鸟嘴，茶壶嘴，钩形鼻 | |
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talon
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| n.爪；（如爪般的）手指；爪状物 | |
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13
maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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acquiescing
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| v.默认，默许( acquiesce的现在分词 ) | |
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15
smitten
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| 猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去分词 ) | |
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plaintive
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| adj.可怜的，伤心的 | |
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innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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wilt
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| v.(使)植物凋谢或枯萎；(指人)疲倦，衰弱 | |
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19
muse
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| n.缪斯（希腊神话中的女神），创作灵感 | |
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20
tarn
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| n.山中的小湖或小潭 | |
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rosier
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| Rosieresite | |
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22
knights
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| 骑士； （中古时代的）武士( knight的名词复数 )； 骑士； 爵士； （国际象棋中）马 | |
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23
trumpet
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| n.喇叭，喇叭声；v.吹喇叭，吹嘘 | |
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24
dangling
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| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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lame
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| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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churl
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| n.吝啬之人；粗鄙之人 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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marred
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| adj. 被损毁, 污损的 | |
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29
sputtering
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| n.反应溅射法；飞溅；阴极真空喷镀；喷射v.唾沫飞溅( sputter的现在分词 )；发劈啪声；喷出；飞溅出 | |
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30
outright
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| adv.坦率地；彻底地；立即；adj.无疑的；彻底的 | |
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31
slain
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| 杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的过去分词 )； (slay的过去分词) | |
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32
ware
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| n.(常用复数)商品，货物 | |
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33
liars
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| 说谎者( liar的名词复数 ) | |
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34
whatsoever
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| adv.（用于否定句中以加强语气）任何；pron.无论什么 | |
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35
worthier
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| 应得某事物( worthy的比较级 )； 值得做某事； 可尊敬的； 有（某人或事物）的典型特征 | |
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36
profess
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| v.声称，冒称，以...为业，正式接受入教，表明信仰 | |
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37
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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38
hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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39
foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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40
wholesome
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| adj.适合；卫生的；有益健康的；显示身心健康的 | |
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41
purged
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| 清除（政敌等）( purge的过去式和过去分词 )； 涤除（罪恶等）； 净化（心灵、风气等）； 消除（错事等）的不良影响 | |
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42
quelling
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| v.（用武力）制止，结束，镇压( quell的现在分词 ) | |
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43
lone
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| adj.孤寂的，单独的；唯一的 | |
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44
mingle
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| vt.使混合，使相混；vi.混合起来；相交往 | |
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45
abide
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| vi.遵守；坚持；vt.忍受 | |
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46
vows
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| 誓言( vow的名词复数 )； 郑重宣布，许愿 | |
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47
vow
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| n.誓(言)，誓约；v.起誓，立誓 | |
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48
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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49
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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50
bower
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| n.凉亭，树荫下凉快之处；闺房；v.荫蔽 | |
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51
tapestry
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| n.挂毯，丰富多采的画面 | |
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52
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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53
shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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54
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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ascending
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| adj.上升的，向上的 | |
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56
gall
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| v.使烦恼，使焦躁，难堪；n.磨难 | |
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dame
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| n.女士 | |
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58
stainless
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| adj.无瑕疵的，不锈的 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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61
plume
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| n.羽毛；v.整理羽毛，骚首弄姿，用羽毛装饰 | |
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62
arbitration
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| n.调停，仲裁 | |
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follies
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| 罪恶，时事讽刺剧； 愚蠢，蠢笨，愚蠢的行为、思想或做法( folly的名词复数 ) | |
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armour
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| （=armor）n.盔甲；装甲部队 | |
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65
crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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66
yearned
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| 渴望，切盼，向往( yearn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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67
gilt
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| adj.镀金的；n.金边证券 | |
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68
groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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69
gibes
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| vi.嘲笑，嘲弄（gibe的第三人称单数形式） | |
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flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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71
crests
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| v.到达山顶（或浪峰）( crest的第三人称单数 )；到达洪峰，达到顶点 | |
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72
gems
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| growth； economy； management； and customer satisfaction 增长 | |
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73
languorous
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| adj.怠惰的，没精打采的 | |
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74
homage
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| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
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75
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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76
mantle
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| n.斗篷，覆罩之物，罩子；v.罩住，覆盖，脸红 | |
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pettish
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| adj.易怒的，使性子的 | |
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78
wan
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| (wide area network)广域网 | |
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shrilly
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| 尖声的； 光亮的，耀眼的 | |
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80
veer
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| vt.转向，顺时针转，改变；n.转向 | |
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81
bluebell
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| n.风铃草 | |
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82
revels
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| n.作乐( revel的名词复数 )；狂欢；着迷；陶醉v.作乐( revel的第三人称单数 )；狂欢；着迷；陶醉 | |
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83
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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84
sodden
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| adj.浑身湿透的；v.使浸透；使呆头呆脑 | |
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85
brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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86
crabbed
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| adj.脾气坏的；易怒的；（指字迹）难辨认的；（字迹等）难辨认的v.捕蟹( crab的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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asses
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| n. 驴，愚蠢的人，臀部 adv. (常用作后置)用于贬损或骂人 | |
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yearning
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| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
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89
tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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91
draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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92
follower
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| n.跟随者；随员；门徒；信徒 | |
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mincing
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| adj.矫饰的；v.切碎；切碎 | |
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rubies
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| 红宝石( ruby的名词复数 )； 红宝石色，深红色 | |
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95
fouled
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| v.使污秽( foul的过去式和过去分词 )；弄脏；击球出界；（通常用废物）弄脏 | |
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96
rams
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| n.公羊( ram的名词复数 )；(R-)白羊（星）座；夯；攻城槌v.夯实（土等）( ram的第三人称单数 )；猛撞；猛压；反复灌输 | |
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bard
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| n.吟游诗人 | |
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babble
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| v.含糊不清地说，胡言乱语地说，儿语 | |
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harping
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| n.反复述说 | |
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witty
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| adj.机智的，风趣的 | |
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101
nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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102
shrilled
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| （声音）尖锐的，刺耳的，高频率的( shrill的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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103
conceits
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| 高傲( conceit的名词复数 )； 自以为； 巧妙的词语； 别出心裁的比喻 | |
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104
figs
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| figures 数字，图形，外形 | |
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105
bristles
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| 短而硬的毛发，刷子毛( bristle的名词复数 ) | |
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106
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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107
rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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108
gust
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| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
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109
lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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110
boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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111
grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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112
dreading
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| v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的现在分词 ) | |
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113
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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114
warrior
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| n.勇士，武士，斗士 | |
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115
bode
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| v.预示 | |
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116
foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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117
musing
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| n. 沉思，冥想 adj. 沉思的, 冥想的 动词muse的现在分词形式 | |
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118
sleek
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| adj.光滑的，井然有序的；v.使光滑，梳拢 | |
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119
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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120
allured
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| 诱引，吸引( allure的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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121
wedded
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| adj.正式结婚的；渴望…的，执著于…的v.嫁，娶，（与…）结婚( wed的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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122
marvel
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| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
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123
strand
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| vt.使（船）搁浅，使（某人）困于（某地） | |
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isle
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| n.小岛，岛 | |
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125
misty
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| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
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126
marsh
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| n.沼泽，湿地 | |
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127
marshes
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| n.沼泽，湿地( marsh的名词复数 ) | |
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128
inflamed
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| adj.发炎的，红肿的v.（使）变红，发怒，过热( inflame的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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129
dishonour
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| n./vt.拒付（支票、汇票、票据等）；vt.凌辱，使丢脸；n.不名誉，耻辱，不光彩 | |
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130
gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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131
flay
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| vt.剥皮；痛骂 | |
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132
whine
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| v.哀号，号哭；n.哀鸣 | |
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133
everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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134
deigned
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| v.屈尊，俯就( deign的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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135
trampled
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| 踩( trample的过去式和过去分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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136
mire
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| n.泥沼，泥泞；v.使...陷于泥泞，使...陷入困境 | |
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137
slew
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| v.（使）旋转；n.大量，许多 | |
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138
massacre
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| n.残杀，大屠杀；v.残杀，集体屠杀 | |
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139
meres
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| abbr.matrix of environmental residuals for energy systems 能源系统环境残留矩阵 | |
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140
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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141
dune
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| n.(由风吹积而成的)沙丘 | |
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142
vaulted
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| adj.拱状的 | |
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143
yelp
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| vi.狗吠 | |
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144
casement
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| n.竖铰链窗；窗扉 | |
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145
spiring
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| v.（教堂的） 塔尖，尖顶( spire的现在分词 ) | |
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146
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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147
wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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148
paramount
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| a.最重要的，最高权力的 | |
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149
dole
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| n.救济，（失业）救济金；vt.（out）发放，发给 | |
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150
kindled
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| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
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151
haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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152
scruple
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| n./v.顾忌，迟疑 | |
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153
hind
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| adj.后面的，后部的 | |
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154
unguent
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| n.（药）膏；润滑剂；滑油 | |
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155
meek
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| adj.温顺的，逆来顺受的 | |
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156
fuming
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| 愤怒( fume的现在分词 )； 大怒； 发怒； 冒烟 | |
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157
hissed
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| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
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158
dallying
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| v.随随便便地对待( dally的现在分词 )；不很认真地考虑；浪费时间；调情 | |
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159
harrying
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| v.使苦恼( harry的现在分词 )；不断烦扰；一再袭击；侵扰 | |
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160
tilt
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| v.(使)倾侧；(使)倾斜；n.倾侧；倾斜 | |
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161
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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162
prevailing
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| adj.盛行的；占优势的；主要的 | |
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163
moodily
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| adv.喜怒无常地；情绪多变地；心情不稳地；易生气地 | |
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164
binds
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| v.约束( bind的第三人称单数 )；装订；捆绑；（用长布条）缠绕 | |
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165
bind
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| vt.捆，包扎；装订；约束；使凝固；vi.变硬 | |
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166
strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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167
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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168
weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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169
trampling
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| 踩( trample的现在分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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170
mightier
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| adj. 强有力的，强大的，巨大的 adv. 很，极其 | |
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171
courteous
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| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
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172
comelier
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| adj.英俊的，好看的( comely的比较级 ) | |
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173
adorn
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| vt.使美化，装饰 | |
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174
glimmer
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| v.发出闪烁的微光；n.微光，微弱的闪光 | |
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175
clove
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| n.丁香味 | |
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176
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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