“Fair was that, fountain, sculptured all of gold,With alabaster sculptured, rich and rare;And in its basin clear thou might’st beholdThe flowery marge reflected fresh and fair.Sage Merlin framed the font,—so legends bear,—When on fair Isoude doated Tristram brave,That the good errant knight, arriving there,Might quaff oblivion in the enchanted wave,And leave his luckless love, and ’scape his timeless grave.
“Fair was that, fountain, sculptured all of gold,With alabaster sculptured, rich and rare;And in its basin clear thou might’st beholdThe flowery marge reflected fresh and fair.Sage Merlin framed the font,—so legends bear,—When on fair Isoude doated Tristram brave,That the good errant knight, arriving there,Might quaff oblivion in the enchanted wave,And leave his luckless love, and ’scape his timeless grave.
“Fair was that, fountain, sculptured all of gold,With alabaster sculptured, rich and rare;And in its basin clear thou might’st beholdThe flowery marge reflected fresh and fair.Sage Merlin framed the font,—so legends bear,—When on fair Isoude doated Tristram brave,That the good errant knight, arriving there,Might quaff oblivion in the enchanted wave,And leave his luckless love, and ’scape his timeless grave.
“Fair was that, fountain, sculptured all of gold,
With alabaster sculptured, rich and rare;
And in its basin clear thou might’st behold
The flowery marge reflected fresh and fair.
Sage Merlin framed the font,—so legends bear,—
When on fair Isoude doated Tristram brave,
That the good errant knight, arriving there,
Might quaff oblivion in the enchanted wave,
And leave his luckless love, and ’scape his timeless grave.
“But ne’er the warrior’s evil fate allowedHis steps that fountain’s charmed verge to gain.Though restless, roving on adventure proud,He traversed oft the land and oft the main.”. . . . . . .
“But ne’er the warrior’s evil fate allowedHis steps that fountain’s charmed verge to gain.Though restless, roving on adventure proud,He traversed oft the land and oft the main.”. . . . . . .
“But ne’er the warrior’s evil fate allowedHis steps that fountain’s charmed verge to gain.Though restless, roving on adventure proud,He traversed oft the land and oft the main.”. . . . . . .
“But ne’er the warrior’s evil fate allowed
His steps that fountain’s charmed verge to gain.
Though restless, roving on adventure proud,
He traversed oft the land and oft the main.”
. . . . . . .
————
Afterthis affair Tristram was banished from the kingdom, and Isoude shut up in a tower, which stood on the bank of a river. Tristram could not resolve to depart without some further communication with his beloved; so he concealed himself in the forest, till at last he contrived to attract her attention, by means of twigs which he curiously peeled, and sent down the stream under her window. By this means many secret interviews were obtained. Tristram dwelt in the forest, sustaining himself by game, which the dog Houdain ran down for him; for this faithful animal was unequalled in the chase, and knew so well his master’s wish for concealment, that, in the pursuit of his game, he never barked. At length Tristram departed, but left Houdain with Isoude, as a remembrancer of him.
Sir Tristram wandered through various countries, achieving the most perilous enterprises, and covering himself with glory, yet unhappy at the separation from his beloved Isoude. At length King Mark’s territory was invaded by a neighboring chieftain, and he was forced to summon his nephew to his aid. Tristram obeyed the call, put himself at the head of his uncle’s vassals, and drove the enemy out of the country. Mark was full of gratitude, and Tristram, restored to favor and to the society of his beloved Isoude, seemed at the summit of happiness. But a sad reverse was at hand.
Tristram had brought with him a friend named Pheredin, son of the king of Brittany. This young knight saw Queen Isoude, and could not resist her charms. Knowing the love of his friend for the queen, and that that love was returned, Pheredin concealed his own, until his health failed, and he feared he was drawing near his end. He then wrote to the beautiful queen that he was dying for love of her.
The gentle Isoude, in a moment of pity for the friendof Tristram, returned him an answer so kind and compassionate that it restored him to life. A few days afterwards Tristram found this letter. The most terrible jealousy took possession of his soul; he would have slain Pheredin, who with difficulty made his escape. Then Tristram mounted his horse, and rode to the forest, where for ten days he took no rest nor food. At length he was found by a damsel lying almost dead by the brink of a fountain. She recognized him, and tried in vain to rouse his attention. At last recollecting his love for music she went and got her harp, and played thereon. Tristram was roused from his reverie; tears flowed; he breathed more freely; he took the harp from the maiden, and sung this lay, with a voice broken with sobs:
“Sweet I sang in former days,Kind love perfected my lays:Now my art alone displaysThe woe that on my being preys.
“Sweet I sang in former days,Kind love perfected my lays:Now my art alone displaysThe woe that on my being preys.
“Sweet I sang in former days,Kind love perfected my lays:Now my art alone displaysThe woe that on my being preys.
“Sweet I sang in former days,
Kind love perfected my lays:
Now my art alone displays
The woe that on my being preys.
“Charming love, delicious power,Worshipped from my earliest hour,Thou who life on all dost shower,Love! my life thou dost devour.
“Charming love, delicious power,Worshipped from my earliest hour,Thou who life on all dost shower,Love! my life thou dost devour.
“Charming love, delicious power,Worshipped from my earliest hour,Thou who life on all dost shower,Love! my life thou dost devour.
“Charming love, delicious power,
Worshipped from my earliest hour,
Thou who life on all dost shower,
Love! my life thou dost devour.
“In death’s hour I beg of thee,Isoude, dearest enemy,Thou who erst couldst kinder be,When I’m gone, forget not me.
“In death’s hour I beg of thee,Isoude, dearest enemy,Thou who erst couldst kinder be,When I’m gone, forget not me.
“In death’s hour I beg of thee,Isoude, dearest enemy,Thou who erst couldst kinder be,When I’m gone, forget not me.
“In death’s hour I beg of thee,
Isoude, dearest enemy,
Thou who erst couldst kinder be,
When I’m gone, forget not me.
“On my gravestone passers-byOft will read, as low I lie,‘Never wight in love could vieWith Tristram, yet she let him die.’ ”
“On my gravestone passers-byOft will read, as low I lie,‘Never wight in love could vieWith Tristram, yet she let him die.’ ”
“On my gravestone passers-byOft will read, as low I lie,‘Never wight in love could vieWith Tristram, yet she let him die.’ ”
“On my gravestone passers-by
Oft will read, as low I lie,
‘Never wight in love could vie
With Tristram, yet she let him die.’ ”
Tristram, having finished his lay, wrote it off and gave it to the damsel, conjuring her to present it to the queen.
Meanwhile Queen Isoude was inconsolable at the absence of Tristram. She discovered that it was caused by the fatal letter which she had written to Pheredin. Innocent, but in despair at the sad effects of her letter, she wrote another to Pheredin, charging him never to see her again. The unhappy lover obeyed this crueldecree. He plunged into the forest, and died of grief and love in a hermit’s cell.
Isoude passed her days in lamenting the absence and unknown fate of Tristram. One day her jealous husband, having entered her chamber unperceived, overheard her singing the following lay:
“My voice to piteous wail is bent,My harp to notes of languishment;Ah, love! delightsome days be meantFor happier wights, with hearts content.
“My voice to piteous wail is bent,My harp to notes of languishment;Ah, love! delightsome days be meantFor happier wights, with hearts content.
“My voice to piteous wail is bent,My harp to notes of languishment;Ah, love! delightsome days be meantFor happier wights, with hearts content.
“My voice to piteous wail is bent,
My harp to notes of languishment;
Ah, love! delightsome days be meant
For happier wights, with hearts content.
“Ah, Tristram! far away from me,Art thou from restless anguish free?Ah! couldst thou so one moment be,From her who so much loveth thee?”
“Ah, Tristram! far away from me,Art thou from restless anguish free?Ah! couldst thou so one moment be,From her who so much loveth thee?”
“Ah, Tristram! far away from me,Art thou from restless anguish free?Ah! couldst thou so one moment be,From her who so much loveth thee?”
“Ah, Tristram! far away from me,
Art thou from restless anguish free?
Ah! couldst thou so one moment be,
From her who so much loveth thee?”
The king hearing these words burst forth in a rage; but Isoude was too wretched to fear his violence. “You have heard me,” she said; “I confess it all. I love Tristram, and always shall love him. Without doubt he is dead, and died for me. I no longer wish to live. The blow that shall finish my misery will be most welcome.”
The king was moved at the distress of the fair Isoude, and perhaps the idea of Tristram’s death tended to allay his wrath. He left the queen in charge of her women, commanding them to take especial care lest her despair should lead her to do harm to herself.
Tristram meanwhile, distracted as he was, rendered a most important service to the shepherds by slaying a gigantic robber named Taullas, who was in the habit of plundering their flocks and rifling their cottages. The shepherds, in their gratitude to Tristram, bore him in triumph to King Mark to have him bestow on him a suitable reward. No wonder Mark failed to recognize in the half-clad, wild man, before him his nephew Tristram; but grateful for the service the unknown had rendered he ordered him to be well taken care of, and gave him in charge to the queen and her women. Under such care Tristram rapidly recovered his serenity and his health, so that the romancer tells us he became handsomer than ever. King Mark’s jealousy revived withTristram’s health and good looks, and, in spite of his debt of gratitude so lately increased, he again banished him from the court.
Sir Tristram left Cornwall, and proceeded into the land of Loegria (England) in quest of adventures. One day he entered a wide forest. The sound of a little bell showed him that some inhabitant was near. He followed the sound, and found a hermit, who informed him that he was in the forest of Arnantes, belonging to the fairy Viviane, the Lady of the Lake, who, smitten with love for King Arthur, had found means to entice him to this forest, where by enchantments she held him a prisoner, having deprived him of all memory of who and what he was. The hermit informed him that all the knights of the Round Table were out in search of the king, and that he (Tristram) was now in the scene of the most grand and important adventures.
This was enough to animate Tristram in the search. He had not wandered far before he encountered a knight of Arthur’s court, who proved to be Sir Kay the Seneschal, who demanded of him whence he came. Tristram answering, “From Cornwall,” Sir Kay did not let slip the opportunity of a joke at the expense of the Cornish knight. Tristram chose to leave him in his error, and even confirmed him in it; for meeting some other knights Tristram declined to just with them. They spent the night together at an abbey, where Tristram submitted patiently to all their jokes. The Seneschal gave the word to his companions that they should set out early next day, and intercept the Cornish knight on his way, and enjoy the amusement of seeing his fright when they should insist on running a tilt with him. Tristram next morning found himself alone; he put on his armor, and set out to continue his quest. He soon saw before him the Seneschal and the three knights, who barred the way, and insisted on a just. Tristram excused himself a long time; at last he reluctantly took his stand. He encountered them, one after the other, and overthrew them all four, man and horse, and then rode off, bidding them not to forget their friend, the knight of Cornwall.
Tristram had not ridden far when he met a damsel, who cried out, “Ah, my lord! hasten forward, and prevent a horrid treason!” Tristram flew to her assistance, and soon reached a spot where he beheld a knight, whom three others had borne to the ground, and were unlacing his helmet in order to cut off his head.
Tristram flew to the rescue, and slew with one stroke of his lance one of the assailants. The knight, recovering his feet, sacrificed another to his vengeance, and the third made his escape. The rescued knight then raised the visor of his helmet, and a long white beard fell down upon his breast. The majesty and venerable air of this knight made Tristram suspect that it was none other than Arthur himself, and the prince confirmed his conjecture. Tristram would have knelt before him, but Arthur received him in his arms, and inquired his name and country; but Tristram declined to disclose them, on the plea that he was now on a quest requiring secrecy. At this moment the damsel who had brought Tristram to the rescue darted forward, and, seizing the king’s hand, drew from his finger a ring, the gift of the fairy, and by that act dissolved the enchantment. Arthur, having recovered his reason and his memory, offered to Tristram to attach him to his court, and to confer honors and dignities upon him; but Tristram declined all, and only consented to accompany him till he should see him safe in the hands of his knights. Soon after, Hector de Marys rode up, and saluted the king, who on his part introduced him to Tristram as one of the bravest of his knights. Tristram took leave of the king and his faithful follower, and continued his quest.
We cannot follow Tristram through all the adventures which filled this epoch of his history. Suffice it to say, he fulfilled on all occasions the duty of a true knight, rescuing the oppressed, redressing wrongs, abolishing evil customs, and suppressing injustice, thus by constant action endeavoring to lighten the pains of absence from her he loved. In the meantime Isoude, separated from her dear Tristram, passed her days in languor and regret. At length she could no longer resistthe desire to hear some news of her lover. She wrote a letter, and sent it by one of her damsels, niece of her faithful Brengwain. One day Tristram, weary with his exertions, had dismounted and laid himself down by the side of a fountain and fallen asleep. The damsel of Queen Isoude arrived at the same fountain, and recognized Passebreul, the horse of Tristram, and presently perceived his master asleep. He was thin and pale, showing evident marks of the pain he suffered in separation from his beloved. She awakened him, and gave him the letter which she bore, and Tristram enjoyed the pleasure, so sweet to a lover, of hearing from and talking about the object of his affections. He prayed the damsel to postpone her return till after the magnificent tournament which Arthur had proclaimed should have taken place, and conducted her to the castle of Persides, a brave and loyal knight, who received her with great consideration.
Tristram conducted the damsel of Queen Isoude to the tournament, and had her placed in the balcony among the ladies of the queen.
“He glanced and saw the stately galleries,Dame, damsel, each through worship of their QueenWhite-robed in honor of the stainless child,And some with scatter’d jewels, like a bankOf maiden snow mingled with sparks of fire.He looked but once, and veiled his eyes again.”—The Last Tournament.
“He glanced and saw the stately galleries,Dame, damsel, each through worship of their QueenWhite-robed in honor of the stainless child,And some with scatter’d jewels, like a bankOf maiden snow mingled with sparks of fire.He looked but once, and veiled his eyes again.”—The Last Tournament.
“He glanced and saw the stately galleries,Dame, damsel, each through worship of their QueenWhite-robed in honor of the stainless child,And some with scatter’d jewels, like a bankOf maiden snow mingled with sparks of fire.He looked but once, and veiled his eyes again.”—The Last Tournament.
“He glanced and saw the stately galleries,Dame, damsel, each through worship of their QueenWhite-robed in honor of the stainless child,And some with scatter’d jewels, like a bankOf maiden snow mingled with sparks of fire.He looked but once, and veiled his eyes again.”—The Last Tournament.
“He glanced and saw the stately galleries,
Dame, damsel, each through worship of their Queen
White-robed in honor of the stainless child,
And some with scatter’d jewels, like a bank
Of maiden snow mingled with sparks of fire.
He looked but once, and veiled his eyes again.”
—The Last Tournament.
He then joined the tourney. Nothing could exceed his strength and valor. Launcelot admired him, and by a secret presentiment declined to dispute the honor of the day with a knight so gallant and so skilful. Arthur descended from the balcony to greet the conqueror; but the modest and devoted Tristram, content with having borne off the prize in the sight of the messenger of Isoude, made his escape with her, and disappeared.
The next day the tourney recommenced. Tristram assumed different armor, that he might not be known; but he was soon detected by the terrible blows that he gave. Arthur and Guenever had no doubt that it was the same knight who had borne off the prize ofthe day before. Arthur’s gallant spirit was roused. After Launcelot of the Lake and Sir Gawain he was accounted the best knight of the Round Table. He went privately and armed himself, and came into the tourney in undistinguished armor. He ran a just with Tristram, whom he shook in his seat; but Tristram, who did not know him, threw him out of the saddle. Arthur recovered himself, and content with having made proof of the stranger knight bade Launcelot finish the adventure, and vindicate the honor of the Round Table. Sir Launcelot, at the bidding of the monarch, assailed Tristram, whose lance was already broken in former encounters. But the law of this sort of combat was that the knight after having broken his lance must fight with his sword, and must not refuse to meet with his shield the lance of his antagonist. Tristram met Launcelot’s charge upon his shield, which that terrible lance could not fail to pierce. It inflicted a wound upon Tristram’s side, and, breaking, left the iron in the wound. But Tristram also with his sword smote so vigorously on Launcelot’s casque that he cleft it, and wounded his head. The wound was not deep, but the blood flowed into his eyes, and blinded him for a moment, and Tristram, who thought himself mortally wounded, retired from the field. Launcelot declared to the king that he had never received such a blow in his life before.
Tristram hastened to Gouvernail, his squire, who drew forth the iron, bound up the wound, and gave him immediate ease. Tristram after the tournament kept retired in his tent, but Arthur, with the consent of all the knights of the Round Table, decreed him the honors of the second day. But it was no longer a secret that the victor of the two days was the same individual, and Gouvernail, being questioned, confirmed the suspicions of Launcelot and Arthur that it was no other than Sir Tristram of Leonais, the nephew of the king of Cornwall.
King Arthur, who desired to reward his distinguished valor, and knew that his Uncle Mark had ungratefully banished him, would have eagerly availed himself of the opportunity to attach Tristram to his court,—all theknights of the Round Table declaring with acclamation that it would be impossible to find a more worthy companion. But Tristram had already departed in search of adventures, and the damsel of Queen Isoude returned to her mistress.
SIR GALAHAD.From painting by George Frederick Watts.
SIR GALAHAD.From painting by George Frederick Watts.
KING ARTHUR AND QUEEN GUENEVER.Original drawing by A. Fredericks.
KING ARTHUR AND QUEEN GUENEVER.Original drawing by A. Fredericks.
Sir Tristramrode through a forest and saw ten men fighting, and one man did battle against nine. So he rode to the knights and cried to them, bidding them cease their battle, for they did themselves great shame, so many knights to fight against one. Then answered the master of the knights (his name was Sir Breuse sans Pitie, who was at that time the most villanous knight living): “Sir knight, what have ye to do to meddle with us? If ye be wise depart on your way as you came, for this knight shall not escape us.” “That were pity,” said Sir Tristram, “that so good a knight should be slain so cowardly; therefore I warn you I will succor him with all my puissance.”
Then Sir Tristram alighted off his horse, because they were on foot, that they should not slay his horse. And he smote on the right hand and on the left so vigorously that well-nigh at every stroke he struck down a knight. At last they fled, with Breuse sans Pitie, into the tower, and shut Sir Tristram without the gate. Then Sir Tristram returned back to the rescued knight, and found him sitting under a tree, sore wounded. “Fair knight,” said he, “how is it with you?” “Sir knight,” said Sir Palamedes, for he it was, “I thank you of your great goodness, for ye have rescued me from death.” “What is your name?” said Sir Tristram. He said, “My name is Sir Palamedes.” “Say ye so?” said Sir Tristram; “now know that thou art the man in the world that I most hate; therefore make thee ready, for I will do battle with thee.” “What is your name?” said Sir Palamedes. “My name is Sir Tristram, your mortal enemy.”“It may be so,” said Sir Palamedes; “but you have done overmuch for me this day, that I should fight with you. Moreover, it will be no honor for you to have to do with me, for you are fresh and I am wounded. Therefore, if you will needs have to do with me, assign me a day, and I shall meet you without fail.” “You say well,” said Sir Tristram; “now I assign you to meet me in the meadow by the river of Camelot, where Merlin set the monument.” So they were agreed. Then they departed and took their ways diverse. Sir Tristram passed through a great forest into a plain, till he came to a priory, and there he reposed him with a good man six days.
Then departed Sir Tristram, and rode straight into Camelot to the monument of Merlin, and there he looked about him for Sir Palamedes. And he perceived a seemly knight, who came riding against him all in white, with a covered shield. When he came nigh Sir Tristram said aloud, “Welcome, sir knight, and well and truly have you kept your promise.” Then they made ready their shields and spears, and came together with all the might of their horses, so fiercely, that both the horses and the knights fell to the earth. And as soon as they might they quitted their horses, and struck together with bright swords as men of might, and each wounded the other wonderfully sore, so that the blood ran out upon the grass. Thus they fought for the space of four hours and never one would speak to the other one word. Then at last spake the white knight, and said, “Sir, thou fightest wonderful well, as ever I saw a knight; therefore, if it please you, tell me your name.” “Why dost thou ask my name?” said Sir Tristram; “art thou not Sir Palamedes?” “No, fair knight,” said he, “I am Sir Launcelot of the Lake.” “Alas!” said Sir Tristram, “what have I done? for you are the man of the world that I love best.” “Fair knight,” said Sir Launcelot, “tell me your name.” “Truly,” said he, “my name is Sir Tristram de Lionesse.” “Alas! alas!” said Sir Launcelot, “what adventure has befallen me!” And therewith Sir Launcelot kneeled down and yielded him up his sword; and Sir Tristram kneeled down andyielded him up his sword; and so either gave other the degree. And then they both went to the stone, and sat them down upon it and took off their helms and each kissed the other a hundred times. And then anon they rode toward Camelot, and on the way they met with Sir Gawain and Sir Gaheris, that had made promise to Arthur never to come again to the court till they had brought Sir Tristram with them.
“Return again,” said Sir Launcelot, “for your quest is done; for I have met with Sir Tristram. Lo, here he is in his own person.” Then was Sir Gawain glad, and said to Sir Tristram, “Ye are welcome.” With this came King Arthur, and when he wist there was Sir Tristram, he ran unto him, and took him by the hand, and said, “Sir Tristram, ye are as welcome as any knight that ever came to this court.” Then Sir Tristram told the king how he came thither for to have had to do with Sir Palamedes, and how he had rescued him from Sir Breuse sans Pitie and the nine knights. Then King Arthur took Sir Tristram by the hand, and went to the Table Round, and Queen Guenever came, and many ladies with her, and all the ladies said with one voice, “Welcome, Sir Tristram.” “Welcome,” said the knights. “Welcome,” said Arthur, “for one of the best of knights, and the gentlest of the world, and the man of most worship; for of all manner of hunting thou bearest the prize, and of all measures of blowing thou art the beginning, and of all the terms of hunting and hawking ye are the inventor, and of all instruments of music ye are the best skilled; therefore, gentle knight,” said Arthur, “ye are welcome to this court.” And then King Arthur made Sir Tristram knight of the Table Round with great nobley and feasting as can be thought.
Tristram is often alluded to by the Romancers as the great authority and model in all matters relating to the chase. In the “Faery Queene,” Tristram, in answer to the inquiries of Sir Calidore, informs him of his name and parentage, and concludes:
“All which my days I have not lewdly spent,Nor spilt the blossom of my tender yearsIn idlesse; but, as was convenient,Have trained been with many noble feresIn gentle thewes, and such like seemly leers;[51]’Mongst which my most delight hath always beenTo hunt the salvage chace, amongst my peers,Of all that rangeth in the forest green,Of which none is to me unknown that yet was seen.
“All which my days I have not lewdly spent,Nor spilt the blossom of my tender yearsIn idlesse; but, as was convenient,Have trained been with many noble feresIn gentle thewes, and such like seemly leers;[51]’Mongst which my most delight hath always beenTo hunt the salvage chace, amongst my peers,Of all that rangeth in the forest green,Of which none is to me unknown that yet was seen.
“All which my days I have not lewdly spent,Nor spilt the blossom of my tender yearsIn idlesse; but, as was convenient,Have trained been with many noble feresIn gentle thewes, and such like seemly leers;[51]’Mongst which my most delight hath always beenTo hunt the salvage chace, amongst my peers,Of all that rangeth in the forest green,Of which none is to me unknown that yet was seen.
“All which my days I have not lewdly spent,
Nor spilt the blossom of my tender years
In idlesse; but, as was convenient,
Have trained been with many noble feres
In gentle thewes, and such like seemly leers;[51]
’Mongst which my most delight hath always been
To hunt the salvage chace, amongst my peers,
Of all that rangeth in the forest green,
Of which none is to me unknown that yet was seen.
“Ne is there hawk which mantleth on her perch,Whether high towering or accosting low,But I the measure of her flight do search,And all her prey, and all her diet know.Such be our joys, which in these forests grow.”
“Ne is there hawk which mantleth on her perch,Whether high towering or accosting low,But I the measure of her flight do search,And all her prey, and all her diet know.Such be our joys, which in these forests grow.”
“Ne is there hawk which mantleth on her perch,Whether high towering or accosting low,But I the measure of her flight do search,And all her prey, and all her diet know.Such be our joys, which in these forests grow.”
“Ne is there hawk which mantleth on her perch,
Whether high towering or accosting low,
But I the measure of her flight do search,
And all her prey, and all her diet know.
Such be our joys, which in these forests grow.”
————
Thefamous enchanter, Merlin, had exerted all his skill in fabricating the Round Table. Of the seats which surrounded it he had constructed thirteen, in memory of the thirteen Apostles. Twelve of these seats only could be occupied, and they only by knights of the highest fame; the thirteenth represented the seat of the traitor Judas. It remained always empty. It was called theperilous seat, ever since a rash and haughty Saracen knight had dared to place himself in it, when the earth opened and swallowed him up.
“In our great hall there stood a vacant chair,Fashion’d by Merlin ere he past away,And carven with strange figures; and in and outThe figures, like a serpent, ran a scrollOf letters in a tongue no man could read.And Merlin call’d it ‘The Siege perilous,’Perilous for good and ill; ‘for there,’ he said,‘No man could sit but he should lose himself.’ ”—The Holy Grail.
“In our great hall there stood a vacant chair,Fashion’d by Merlin ere he past away,And carven with strange figures; and in and outThe figures, like a serpent, ran a scrollOf letters in a tongue no man could read.And Merlin call’d it ‘The Siege perilous,’Perilous for good and ill; ‘for there,’ he said,‘No man could sit but he should lose himself.’ ”—The Holy Grail.
“In our great hall there stood a vacant chair,Fashion’d by Merlin ere he past away,And carven with strange figures; and in and outThe figures, like a serpent, ran a scrollOf letters in a tongue no man could read.And Merlin call’d it ‘The Siege perilous,’Perilous for good and ill; ‘for there,’ he said,‘No man could sit but he should lose himself.’ ”—The Holy Grail.
“In our great hall there stood a vacant chair,Fashion’d by Merlin ere he past away,And carven with strange figures; and in and outThe figures, like a serpent, ran a scrollOf letters in a tongue no man could read.And Merlin call’d it ‘The Siege perilous,’Perilous for good and ill; ‘for there,’ he said,‘No man could sit but he should lose himself.’ ”—The Holy Grail.
“In our great hall there stood a vacant chair,
Fashion’d by Merlin ere he past away,
And carven with strange figures; and in and out
The figures, like a serpent, ran a scroll
Of letters in a tongue no man could read.
And Merlin call’d it ‘The Siege perilous,’
Perilous for good and ill; ‘for there,’ he said,
‘No man could sit but he should lose himself.’ ”
—The Holy Grail.
A magic power wrote upon each seat the name of the knight who was entitled to sit in it. No one couldsucceed to a vacant seat unless he surpassed in valor and glorious deeds the knight who had occupied it before him; without this qualification he would be violently repelled by a hidden force. Thus proof was made of all those who presented themselves to replace any companions of the order who had fallen.
One of the principal seats, that of Moraunt of Ireland, had been vacant ten years, and his name still remained over it ever since the time when that distinguished champion fell beneath the sword of Sir Tristram. Arthur now took Tristram by the hand and led him to that seat. Immediately the most melodious sounds were heard, and exquisite perfumes filled the place; the name of Moraunt disappeared, and that of Tristram blazed forth in light. The rare modesty of Tristram had now to be subjected to a severe task; for the clerks charged with the duty of preserving the annals of the Round Table attended, and he was required by the law of his order to declare what feats of arms he had accomplished to entitle him to take that seat. This ceremony being ended, Tristram received the congratulations of all his companions. Sir Launcelot and Guenever took the occasion to speak to him of the fair Isoude, and to express their wish that some happy chance might bring her to the kingdom of Loegria.
While Tristram was thus honored and caressed at the court of King Arthur, the most gloomy and malignant jealousy harassed the soul of Mark. He could not look upon Isoude without remembering that she loved Tristram, and the good fortune of his nephew goaded him to thoughts of vengeance. He at last resolved to go disguised into the kingdom of Loegria, attack Tristram by stealth, and put him to death. He took with him two knights, brought up in his court, who he thought were devoted to him; and, not willing to leave Isoude behind, named two of her maidens to attend her, together with her faithful Brengwain, and made them accompany him.
Having arrived in the neighborhood of Camelot, Mark imparted his plan to his two knights, but they rejected it with horror; nay, more, they declared that they would no longer remain in his service; and left him, givinghim reason to suppose that they should repair to the court to accuse him before Arthur. It was necessary for Mark to meet and rebut their accusation; so, leaving Isoude in an abbey, he pursued his way alone to Camelot.
Mark had not ridden far when he encountered a party of knights of Arthur’s court, and would have avoided them, for he knew their habit of challenging to a just every stranger knight whom they met. But it was too late. They had seen his armor, and recognized him as a Cornish knight, and at once resolved to have some sport with him. It happened they had with them Daguenet, King Arthur’s fool, who, though deformed and weak of body, was not wanting in courage. The knights as Mark approached laid their plan that Daguenet should personate Sir Launcelot of the Lake, and challenge the Cornish knight. They equipped him in armor belonging to one of their number who was ill, and sent him forward to the cross-road to defy the strange knight. Mark, who saw that his antagonist was by no means formidable in appearance, was not disinclined to the combat; but when the dwarf rode towards him, calling out that he was Sir Launcelot of the Lake, his fears prevailed, he put spurs to his horse, and rode away at full speed, pursued by the shouts and laughter of the party.
Meanwhile Isoude, remaining at the abbey with her faithful Brengwain, found her only amusement in walking occasionally in a forest adjoining the abbey. There, on the brink of a fountain girdled with trees, she thought of her love, and sometimes joined her voice and her harp in lays reviving the memory of its pains or pleasures. One day the caitiff knight, Breuse the Pitiless, heard her voice, concealed himself, and drew near. She sang:
“Sweet silence, shadowy bower, and verdant lair,Ye court my troubled spirit to repose,Whilst I, such dear remembrance rises there,Awaken every echo with my woes.
“Sweet silence, shadowy bower, and verdant lair,Ye court my troubled spirit to repose,Whilst I, such dear remembrance rises there,Awaken every echo with my woes.
“Sweet silence, shadowy bower, and verdant lair,Ye court my troubled spirit to repose,Whilst I, such dear remembrance rises there,Awaken every echo with my woes.
“Sweet silence, shadowy bower, and verdant lair,
Ye court my troubled spirit to repose,
Whilst I, such dear remembrance rises there,
Awaken every echo with my woes.
“Within these woods, by nature’s hand arrayed,A fountain springs, and feeds a thousand flowers;Ah! how my groans do all its murmurs aid!How my sad eyes do swell it with their showers!
“Within these woods, by nature’s hand arrayed,A fountain springs, and feeds a thousand flowers;Ah! how my groans do all its murmurs aid!How my sad eyes do swell it with their showers!
“Within these woods, by nature’s hand arrayed,A fountain springs, and feeds a thousand flowers;Ah! how my groans do all its murmurs aid!How my sad eyes do swell it with their showers!
“Within these woods, by nature’s hand arrayed,
A fountain springs, and feeds a thousand flowers;
Ah! how my groans do all its murmurs aid!
How my sad eyes do swell it with their showers!
“What doth my knight the while? to him is givenA double meed; in love and arms’ emprise,Him the Round Table elevates to heaven!Tristram! ah me! he hears not Isoude’s cries.”
“What doth my knight the while? to him is givenA double meed; in love and arms’ emprise,Him the Round Table elevates to heaven!Tristram! ah me! he hears not Isoude’s cries.”
“What doth my knight the while? to him is givenA double meed; in love and arms’ emprise,Him the Round Table elevates to heaven!Tristram! ah me! he hears not Isoude’s cries.”
“What doth my knight the while? to him is given
A double meed; in love and arms’ emprise,
Him the Round Table elevates to heaven!
Tristram! ah me! he hears not Isoude’s cries.”
Breuse the Pitiless, who like most other caitiffs had felt the weight of Tristram’s arm, and hated him accordingly, at hearing his name breathed forth by the beautiful songstress, impelled by a double impulse, rushed forth from his concealment and laid hands on his victim. Isoude fainted, and Brengwain filled the air with her shrieks. Breuse carried Isoude to the place where he had left his horse; but the animal had got away from his bridle, and was at some distance. He was obliged to lay down his fair burden, and go in pursuit of his horse. Just then a knight came up, drawn by the cries of Brengwain, and demanded the cause of her distress. She could not speak, but pointed to her mistress lying insensible on the ground.
Breuse had by this time returned, and the cries of Brengwain, renewed at seeing him, sufficiently showed the stranger the cause of the distress. Tristram spurred his horse towards Breuse, who, not unprepared, ran to the encounter. Breuse was unhorsed, and lay motionless, pretending to be dead; but when the stranger knight left him to attend to the distressed damsels, he mounted his horse, and made his escape.
The knight now approached Isoude, gently raised her head, drew aside the golden hair which covered her countenance, gazed thereon for an instant, uttered a cry, and fell back insensible. Brengwain came; her cares soon restored her mistress to life, and they then turned their attention to the fallen warrior. They raised his visor, and discovered the countenance of Sir Tristram. Isoude threw herself on the body of her lover, and bedewed his face with her tears. Their warmth revived the knight, and Tristram on awaking found himself in the arms of his dear Isoude.
It was the law of the Round Table that each knight after his admission should pass the next ten days in quest of adventures, during which time his companions might meet him in disguised armor and try their strengthwith him. Tristram had now been out seven days, and in that time had encountered many of the best knights of the Round Table, and acquitted himself with honor. During the remaining three days, Isoude remained at the abbey, under his protection, and then set out with her maidens, escorted by Sir Tristram, to rejoin King Mark at the court of Camelot.
This happy journey was one of the brightest epochs in the lives of Tristram and Isoude. He celebrated it by a lay upon the harp in a peculiar measure, to which the French give the name ofTriolet.
“With fair Isoude, and with love,Ah! how sweet the life I lead!How blest for ever thus to rove,With fair Isoude, and with love!As she wills, I live and move,And cloudless days to days succeed:With fair Isoude, and with love,Ah! how sweet the life I lead!
“With fair Isoude, and with love,Ah! how sweet the life I lead!How blest for ever thus to rove,With fair Isoude, and with love!As she wills, I live and move,And cloudless days to days succeed:With fair Isoude, and with love,Ah! how sweet the life I lead!
“With fair Isoude, and with love,Ah! how sweet the life I lead!How blest for ever thus to rove,With fair Isoude, and with love!As she wills, I live and move,And cloudless days to days succeed:With fair Isoude, and with love,Ah! how sweet the life I lead!
“With fair Isoude, and with love,
Ah! how sweet the life I lead!
How blest for ever thus to rove,
With fair Isoude, and with love!
As she wills, I live and move,
And cloudless days to days succeed:
With fair Isoude, and with love,
Ah! how sweet the life I lead!
“Journeying on from break of day,Feel you not fatigued, my fair?Yon green turf invites to play;Journeying on from day to day,Ah! let us to that shade away,Were it but to slumber there!Journeying on from break of day,Feel you not fatigued, my fair?”
“Journeying on from break of day,Feel you not fatigued, my fair?Yon green turf invites to play;Journeying on from day to day,Ah! let us to that shade away,Were it but to slumber there!Journeying on from break of day,Feel you not fatigued, my fair?”
“Journeying on from break of day,Feel you not fatigued, my fair?Yon green turf invites to play;Journeying on from day to day,Ah! let us to that shade away,Were it but to slumber there!Journeying on from break of day,Feel you not fatigued, my fair?”
“Journeying on from break of day,
Feel you not fatigued, my fair?
Yon green turf invites to play;
Journeying on from day to day,
Ah! let us to that shade away,
Were it but to slumber there!
Journeying on from break of day,
Feel you not fatigued, my fair?”
They arrived at Camelot, where Sir Launcelot received them most cordially. Isoude was introduced to King Arthur and Queen Guenever, who welcomed her as a sister. As King Mark was held in arrest under the accusation of the two Cornish knights, Queen Isoude could not rejoin her husband, and Sir Launcelot placed his castle of La Joyeuse Garde at the disposal of his friends, who there took up their abode.
King Mark, who found himself obliged to confess the truth of the charge against him, or to clear himself by combat with his accusers, preferred the former, and King Arthur, as his crime had not been perpetrated, remitted the penalty, only enjoining upon him, under pain of his signal displeasure, to lay aside all thoughts ofvengeance against his nephew. In the presence of the king and his court all parties were formally reconciled; Mark and his queen departed for their home, and Tristram remained at Arthur’s court.
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WhileSir Tristram and the fair Isoude abode yet at La Joyeuse Garde, Sir Tristram rode forth one day, without armor, having no weapon but his spear and his sword. And as he rode he came to a place where he saw two knights in battle, and one of them had gotten the better and the other lay overthrown. The knight who had the better was Sir Palamedes. When Sir Palamedes knew Sir Tristram, he cried out, “Sir Tristram, now we be met, and ere we depart we will redress our old wrongs.” “As for that,” said Sir Tristram, “there never yet was Christian man that might make his boast that I ever fled from him, and thou that art a Saracen shalt never say that of me.” And therewith Sir Tristram made his horse to run, and with all his might came straight upon Sir Palamedes, and broke his spear upon him. Then he drew his sword and struck at Sir Palamedes six great strokes, upon his helm. Sir Palamedes saw that Sir Tristram had not his armor on, and he marvelled at his rashness and his great folly; and said to himself, “If I meet and slay him, I am shamed wheresoever I go.” Then Sir Tristram cried out and said, “Thou coward knight, why wilt thou not do battle with me? for have thou no doubt I shall endure all thy malice.” “Ah, Sir Tristram!” said Sir Palamedes, “thou knowest I may not fight with thee for shame; for thou art here naked, and I am armed; now I require that thou answer me a question that I shall ask you.” “Tell me what it is,” said Sir Tristram. “I put the case,” said Palamedes, “that you were well armed, and I naked as ye be; what would you do to me now, by your trueknighthood?” “Ah!” said Sir Tristram, “now I understand thee well, Sir Palamedes; and, as God bless me, what I shall say shall not be said for fear that I have of thee. But if it were so, thou shouldest depart from me, for I would not have to do with thee.” “No more will I with thee,” said Sir Palamedes, “and therefore ride forth on thy way.” “As for that, I may choose,” said Sir Tristram, “either to ride or to abide. But, Sir Palamedes, I marvel at one thing,—that thou art so good a knight, yet that thou wilt not be christened.” “As for that,” said Sir Palamedes, “I may not yet be christened, for a vow which I made many years ago; yet in my heart I believe in our Saviour and his mild mother, Mary; but I have yet one battle to do, and when that is done I will be christened, with a good will.” “By my head,” said Sir Tristram, “as for that one battle, thou shalt seek it no longer; for yonder is a knight, whom you have smitten down. Now help me to be clothed in his armor, and I will soon fulfil thy vow.” “As ye will,” said Sir Palamedes, “so shall it be.” So they rode both unto that knight that sat on a bank; and Sir Tristram saluted him, and he full weary saluted him again. “Sir,” said Sir Tristram, “I pray you to lend me your whole armor; for I am unarmed, and I must do battle with this knight.” “Sir,” said the hurt knight, “you shall have it, with a right good will.” Then Sir Tristram unarmed Sir Galleron, for that was the name of the hurt knight, and he as well as he could helped to arm Sir Tristram. Then Sir Tristram mounted upon his own horse, and in his hand he took Sir Galleron’s spear. Thereupon Sir Palamedes was ready, and so they came hurling together, and each smote the other in the midst of their shields. Sir Palamedes’ spear broke, and Sir Tristram smote down the horse. Then Sir Palamedes leapt from his horse, and drew out his sword. That saw Sir Tristram, and therewith he alighted and tied his horse to a tree. Then they came together as two wild beasts, lashing the one on the other, and so fought more than two hours; and often Sir Tristram smote such strokes at Sir Palamedes that he made him to kneel, and Sir Palamedes broke away Sir Tristram’sshield, and wounded him. Then Sir Tristram was wroth out of measure, and he rushed to Sir Palamedes and wounded him passing sore through the shoulder, and by fortune smote Sir Palamedes’ sword out of his hand. And if Sir Palamedes had stooped for his sword Sir Tristram had slain him. Then Sir Palamedes stood and beheld his sword with a full sorrowful heart. “Now,” said Sir Tristram, “I have thee at a vantage, as thou hadst me to-day; but it shall never be said, in court, or among good knights, that Sir Tristram did slay any knight that was weaponless; therefore take thou thy sword, and let us fight this battle to the end.” Then spoke Sir Palamedes to Sir Tristram: “I have no wish to fight this battle any more. The offence that I have done unto you is not so great but that, if it please you, we may be friends. All that I have offended is for the love of the queen, La Belle Isoude, and I dare maintain that she is peerless among ladies; and for that offence ye have given me many grievous and sad strokes, and some I have given you again. Wherefore I require you, my lord Sir Tristram, forgive me all that I have offended you, and this day have me unto the next church; and first I will be clean confessed, and after that see you that I be truly baptized, and then we will ride together unto the court of my lord, King Arthur, so that we may be there at the feast of Pentecost.” “Now take your horse,” said Sir Tristram, “and as you have said, so shall it be done.” So they took their horses, and Sir Galleron rode with them. When they came to the church of Carlisle, the bishop commanded to fill a great vessel with water; and when he had hallowed it, he then confessed Sir Palamedes clean, and christened him, and Sir Tristram and Sir Galleron were his godfathers. Then soon after they departed, and rode towards Camelot, where the noble King Arthur and Queen Guenever were keeping a court royal. And the king and all the court were glad that Sir Palamedes was christened. Then Sir Tristram returned again to La Joyeuse Garde, and Sir Palamedes went his way.
Not long after these events Sir Gawain returned from Brittany, and related to King Arthur the adventurewhich befell him in the forest of Breciliande, how Merlin had there spoken to him, and enjoined him to charge the king to go without delay upon the quest of the Holy Greal. While King Arthur deliberated Tristram determined to enter upon the quest, and the more readily, as it was well known to him that this holy adventure would, if achieved, procure him the pardon of all his sins. He immediately departed for the kingdom of Brittany, hoping there to obtain from Merlin counsel as to the proper course to pursue to insure success.
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Onarriving in Brittany Tristram found King Hoel engaged in a war with a rebellious vassal, and hard pressed by his enemy. His best knights had fallen in a late battle, and he knew not where to turn for assistance. Tristram volunteered his aid. It was accepted; and the army of Hoel, led by Tristram, and inspired by his example, gained a complete victory. The king, penetrated by the most lively sentiments of gratitude, and having informed himself of Tristram’s birth, offered him his daughter in marriage. The princess was beautiful and accomplished, and bore the same name with the Queen of Cornwall; but this one is designated by the Romancers as Isoude of the White Hands, to distinguish her from Isoude the Fair.
How can we describe the conflict that agitated the heart of Tristram? He adored the first Isoude, but his love for her was hopeless, and not unaccompanied by remorse. Moreover, the sacred quest on which he had now entered demanded of him perfect purity of life. It seemed as if a happy destiny had provided for him in the charming princess Isoude of the White Hands the best security for all his good resolutions. This last reflection determined him. They were married, and passed some months in tranquil happiness at the court ofKing Hoel. The pleasure which Tristram felt in his wife’s society increased day by day. An inward grace seemed to stir within him from the moment when he took the oath to go on the quest of the Holy Greal; it seemed even to triumph over the power of the magic love-potion.
The war, which had been quelled for a time, now burst out anew. Tristram as usual was foremost in every danger. The enemy was worsted in successive conflicts, and at last shut himself up in his principal city. Tristram led on the attack of the city. As he mounted a ladder to scale the walls he was struck on the head by a fragment of rock, which the besieged threw down upon him. It bore him to the ground, where he lay insensible.
As soon as he recovered consciousness he demanded to be carried to his wife. The princess, skilled in the art of surgery, would not suffer any one but herself to touch her beloved husband. Her fair hands bound up his wounds; Tristram kissed them with gratitude, which began to grow into love. At first the devoted cares of Isoude seemed to meet with great success; but after a while these flattering appearances vanished, and, in spite of all her care, the malady grew more serious day by day.
In this perplexity, an old squire of Tristram’s reminded his master that the princess of Ireland, afterwards queen of Cornwall, had once cured him under circumstances quite as discouraging. He called Isoude of the White Hands to him, told her of his former cure, added that he believed that the Queen Isoude could heal him, and that he felt sure that she would come to his relief, if sent for.
Isoude of the White Hands consented that Gesnes, a trusty man and skilful navigator, should be sent to Cornwall. Tristram called him, and, giving him a ring, “Take this,” he said, “to the Queen of Cornwall. Tell her that Tristram, near to death, demands her aid. If you succeed in bringing her with you, place white sails to your vessel on your return, that we may know of your success when the vessel first heaves in sight. But ifQueen Isoude refuses, put on black sails; they will be the presage of my impending death.”
Gesnes performed his mission successfully. King Mark happened to be absent from his capital, and the queen readily consented to return with the bark to Brittany. Gesnes clothed his vessel in the whitest of sails, and sped his way back to Brittany.
Meantime the wound of Tristram grew more desperate day by day. His strength, quite prostrated, no longer permitted him to be carried to the seaside daily, as had been his custom from the first moment when it was possible for the bark to be on the way homeward. He called a young damsel, and gave her in charge to keep watch in the direction of Cornwall, and to come and tell him the color of the sails of the first vessel she should see approaching.
When Isoude of the White Hands consented that the queen of Cornwall should be sent for, she had not known all the reasons which she had for fearing the influence which renewed intercourse with that princess might have on her own happiness. She had now learned more, and felt the danger more keenly. She thought, if she could only keep the knowledge of the queen’s arrival from her husband, she might employ in his service any resources which her skill could supply, and still avert the dangers which she apprehended. When the vessel was seen approaching, with its white sails sparkling in the sun, the damsel, by command of her mistress, carried word to Tristram that the sails were black.
Tristram, penetrated with inexpressible grief, breathed a profound sigh, turned away his face, and said, “Alas, my beloved! we shall never see one another again!” Then he commended himself to God, and breathed his last.
The death of Tristram was the first intelligence which the queen of Cornwall heard on landing. She was conducted almost senseless into the chamber of Tristram, and expired holding him in her arms.
Tristram, before his death, had requested that his body should be sent to Cornwall, and that his sword, with a letter he had written, should be delivered to KingMark. The remains of Tristram and Isoude were embarked in a vessel, along with the sword, which was presented to the king of Cornwall. He was melted with tenderness when he saw the weapon which slew Moraunt of Ireland,—which had so often saved his life, and redeemed the honor of his kingdom. In the letter Tristram begged pardon of his uncle, and related the story of the amorous draught.
Mark ordered the lovers to be buried in his own chapel. From the tomb of Tristram there sprung a vine, which went along the walls, and descended into the grave of the queen. It was cut down three times, but each time sprung up again more vigorous than before, and this wonderful plant has ever since shaded the tombs of Tristram and Isoude.
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Spenser introduces Sir Tristram in his “Faery Queene.” In Book VI., Canto ii., Sir Calidore encounters in the forest a young hunter, whom he thus describes: