should grow great,
And in his great arms still encircle me,
Kissing my face, half blinded with the heat
Of king's love for the queen I used to be.

Launcelot, Launcelot, why did he take your hand,
When he had kissed me in his kingly way?
Saying: This is the knight whom all the land
Calls Arthur's banner, sword, and shield to-day;

Cherish him, love. Why did your long lips cleave
In such strange way unto my fingers then?
So eagerly glad to kiss, so loath to leave
When you rose up? Why among helmed men

Could I always tell you by your long strong arms,
And sway like an angel's in your saddle there?
Why sicken'd I so often with alarms
Over the tilt-yard? Why were you more fair

Than aspens in the autumn at their best?
Why did you fill all lands with your great fame,
So that Breuse even, as he rode, fear'd lest
At turning of the way your shield should flame?

Was it nought then, my agony and strife?
When as day passed by day, year after year,
I found I could not live a righteous life!
Didst ever think queens held their truth for dear?

O, but your lips say: Yea, but she was cold
Sometimes, always uncertain as the spring;
When I was sad she would be overbold,
Longing for kisses. When war-bells did ring,

The back-toll'd bells of noisy Camelot.
'Now, Lord God, listen! listen, Guenevere,
Though I am weak just now, I think there's not
A man who dares to say: You hated her,

And left her moaning while you fought your fill
In the daisied meadows! lo you her thin hand,
That on the carven stone can not keep still,
Because she loves me against God's command,

Has often been quite wet with tear on tear,
Tears Launcelot keeps somewhere, surely not
In his own heart, perhaps in Heaven, where
He will not be these ages.' 'Launcelot!

Loud lips, wrung heart! I say when the bells rang,
The noisy back-toll'd bells of Camelot,
There were two spots on earth, the thrushes sang
In the lonely gardens where my love was not,

Where I was almost weeping; I dared not
Weep quite in those days, lest one maid should say,
In tittering whispers: Where is Launcelot
To wipe with some kerchief those tears away?

Another answer sharply with brows knit,
And warning hand up, scarcely lower thoug