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GAWAIN AND MARJORIE

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Victoria Liss
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« Reply #15 on: November 30, 2009, 03:04:48 am »

   It hapt
That day the king rode forth alone, and met
The damsel and her train; she knew him not,
But staying him besought his kingly grace
To tell her if Prince Gawain yet abode
Within that city. These were all her words,
Yet her whole hist'ry trembl'd in her voice,
Flusht in the rose upon her cheek.
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Victoria Liss
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« Reply #16 on: November 30, 2009, 03:04:59 am »

                                         Then he,
The blameless king, thought in himself, "This maid
Is one our Gawain light has lightly lov'd;"
And then to her:--"The knight of whom you ask
Is absent far upon a quest of mine;
Not for a month will he return--but bide
You here at court that space. I am the king."
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Victoria Liss
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« Reply #17 on: November 30, 2009, 03:05:09 am »

So Marjorie abode with Guinevere,
To whom the king that night unbarr'd his thought
And added, "When the prince returns, those twain
Shall be made one by Dubric, shall they not?"
And she: "Your will is ever mine, my lord,"
And set herself to bring the thing to pass.

Now when the month had end and he came not,
And yet another month and still he lagg'd,
Maid Marjorie, boding ill, crav'd to be free,
To go and seek him; and the kindly king,
Doubtful, but fearing to deny the maid,
Let her go forth in charge of good Sir Bors.
Three days they rode, till on an eventide
They came to a lone castle on a crag,
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Victoria Liss
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« Reply #18 on: November 30, 2009, 03:05:18 am »

Empty in seeming while the gate swung wide,
And, for they needed shelter, enter'd. Scarce
The band had clear'd the archway, ere the gate
Clang'd to behind them, and an evil host
Who made that dismal place their robbers' nest
Fell on the slender train with swarming force,
Disarm'd and bound them, though Sir Bors fought hard.
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Victoria Liss
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« Reply #19 on: November 30, 2009, 03:05:30 am »


Then Marjorie, who in woman-fear had cower'd
Till now within her litter, drew aside
The hangings. Mov'd by her strange beauty, yet
Still more by her sweet voice beseeching them,
The host, scarce knowing why, made pause. Then she,
Fing'ring her lute, sang as she once had sung
To Gawain on that day when first they met.
And when the song was done, she crav'd from these
Freedom for all her train, and in exchange
Offer'd her litter and rich hangings. They,
Won by the sweetness of the song, or fill'd
With sudden madness never felt before,
Gave all she ask'd and set their captives free.
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« Reply #20 on: November 30, 2009, 03:05:44 am »

That night they lay on damp and mouldy straw
Within a lowly hovel in the wood,
And on the morrow would have gone once more
Upon their quest had not a fever seiz'd
The maid and held her fast; and good Sir Bors,
Knowing the deadly fever of that land,
Was ware the end was near.
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« Reply #21 on: November 30, 2009, 03:05:57 am »

       So past two days,
And on the third they heard the jingling reins
Of horses, and a train of knights and dames
Drew near and stay'd to rest. Sir Bors, alert,
Amongst them spying Gawain close to one
Whose name was lightly tost about the court,--
The subtle Vivien,--pluckt him by the sleeve,
Crying, "Come hence with me!" And Gawain went
And after them stole Vivien, and the three,
Ent'ring the hovel, came where Marjorie lay
Moaning with fever on her bed of straw.
She, feeling subtly the fine Gawain's eyes
Upon her bent in wonder, open'd hers,
Half rais'd herself, and stretching out her arms
Toward him, gave a joyful cry, and past
Without more utterance where no soul is vext
With sighing or the myriad pains of earth.
So died the maid Prince Gawain first had lov'd
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Victoria Liss
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« Reply #22 on: November 30, 2009, 03:06:09 am »

He, when he saw the damsel dead, and heard
The voice of good Sir Bors, "Your work, my Prince!"
Had felt a pain much like remorse within,
And would have stay'd to see that all was done
Fitting the time and her, but Vivien came
And wound her arms about his neck, and said
This thing and that thing of her wiliness:
So maz'd by Vivien was light Gawain's thought
That he departed leaving all to Bors.
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Victoria Liss
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« Reply #23 on: November 30, 2009, 03:06:21 am »

Four days had end, and into Camelot
Light Gawain rode with Vivien beside,
But all the walls were hung with black, and all
The bells made music doleful from their towers.
Forth from the palace came a train of maids
Chanting a hymn, and after, on a bier
Pall'd all in samite blackness, lay the maid
Whose love had been her doom. King, queen, and court
Pac'd slowly after, and King Arthur bent
A brow of gloom on Gawain, but said naught.
Then Gawain turn'd and follow'd the dark train
Till all was done, the while the music roll'd
Sadly above the head of Marjorie.
Then, for the man was light, he past once more
To his light loves; and all that was, became
Erewhile to him as that which never hapt.
Such honour Gawain did to Arthur's court.
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Victoria Liss
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« Reply #24 on: November 30, 2009, 03:06:42 am »


THE PLEASAUNCE OF MAID MARIAN
by
OSCAR FAY ADAMS

ARGUMENT.


"Mary, Mary, quite contrary,
      How does your garden grow?
Silver bells and cockle shells
      And fair maids all in a row."
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