Tormalot was passed,
And she was out upon the lonely moor.
Onward she went, too wrenched with pain and wrath
To fear, or wonder at her fearlessness.

The knight Sanpeur was on his battlements,
Silvered with light from the full summer moon,
And heard his seneschal with loud replies
Denying entrance, as his orders were;
He would be left alone and undisturbed
With memory and thought of Gwendolaine.
"What sweetness infinite beneath the ebb
And flow of moods," he said, half audibly;
"What truth beneath her laughter and her mirth!
I ask but that her nature be fulfilled,
That is enough for me; it matters not
If I may only see her from afar.
My love was sent to vivify her life,
Not to imperil, and to make no claim
Of her but her unfolding; to remind
Her soul of its immortal heritage,
And teach her joy,--she knew but merriment.
And this, meseems, it hath done, Christ be praised.
Her soul asserts itself through her gay life,
And joy pervades her,--she is radiant.
How wonderful she looked, last night, at Camelot!
She moved in glowing beauty like a star."

And with the vision of her in his heart,
In all the splendour of her state and pride,
In golden-threaded samite strewn with pearls,
He turned, in the quick pacing of his walk,
And faced her in her simple russet gown,
Her hair unbound, and blowing in the wind,
Her cheeks as colourless as white May flowers,
Save on the one a deep and crimson stain.
"My God!" he cried, and caught her as she fell.

She told the story of her bitter wrong
In poignant words of passionate disdain.
"And I have come straightway to you, Sanpeur,--
Having more faith in your true love for me
Than any woman ever had before
In love of man, or chivalry of knight,--
To tell you that I love you more than life.
Long have I loved you, well I know it now,
Although I knew it not, until this blow
Stamped it in blood upon my mind and soul.
I rose this morn resolved to be more true
To your high thought of womanhood, and wife,
To bear with Torm more patiently, and strive
To make my life more worthy of your love;
And then,--God help me,--my resolve was crushed
By Torm's fierce hand, and love for you set free.
Yea, now my heart is sure,--beyond all doubt,
Beyond all question and all fear of men,--
That I, for ever, love you utterly.
Take me, beloved, I am yours, I want,
I need, I pant, I tremble for your care.
O meet me not so coldly! I shall die
If you repulse me; I have come so far
And fast, witho