tells me I held not my hand in vain. Let it, then, go its course; and keep my men from coming on too near."

"My lord," Sir Gawain answered him with tears, "must I, then, let you perish without help?"

"The best of help," the king rejoined, "will be to do my bidding."

Sir Gawain was at this so much incensed, he cast down lance and shield, he tore his cloak and handfuls from his hair.

Just at this time Ivan and Tristrem came, with lances lowered, and at top of speed; Gawain threw up his hands, and loudly cried:

"Strike not, my lords, for his, King Arthur's sake; he's a dead man if you but touch the beast."

"What, then, are we to do?" inquired they.

"We'll follow it," quoth Gawain: "if the king be hurt, the beast shall die."

The monster still kept on its even way, not seeming to remark the knights, until a rock it reached, lofty and round and high. It scaled it, as a swallow, rapidly; and Gawain and his friends, who at a distance followed, sad and full of thought, saw it, when thus the summit was attained, crawl straight towards a peak which overhung. There, stretching out its head, it held the king suspended o'er the abyss. Judge the alarm of Gawain and his friends, who each beside was almost wild with rage! Hearing their cries, they who remained behind came up full spur, and reached the lofty rock, where, at the summit, they beheld the king hanging thus helpless from the monster's horns. They then gave loose to the most doleful cries that ever had been heard. I cannot picture to you their despair. Brave knights and pages then you might have seen tearing their hair and rending their attire, that wood reviling and the strange adventure which they had come to seek. And Quex exclaimed, by way of final stroke:

"Alas! fair chivalry, how hard thy lot! this day to cause the death of our good king, and lose thy valour when 'twas needed most!"

Saying these words he sank upon the ground. The king, however, still remained suspended in mid air, the beast meanwhile not offering to stir. The monarch feared to drop in that abyss; and in low voice he prayed the saints and God to save him from this pass. Then Gawain, Tristrem, and I know not who beside, took counsel how they might heap up their robes, so as to break the brave King Arthur's fall. Gawain had scarce proposed it to the crowd than each one doffed his garments speedily.

In haste they brought their cloaks and mantles gay; stripped off with eagerness their doublets, hose; and in an instant every knight was bare: such was the heap of garments 'neath that rock, the king had fallen without deadly risk. When this the beast beheld, it stirred as though it would draw back, and slightly shook its head. The crowd below, alarmed, at once upraised a cry; and on their bended knees prayed Heaven to guard the king, and bear him safe and sound. The beast with mighty spring then leaped below; and setting Arthur free, itself it changed into a handsome knight, in scarlet richly dad from head to heel. This noble bent his knee before the king, and smiling said:

"My liege, command your men their garments to resume; they now may dine in peace; though somewhat late, the adventure has been found."

Arthur amazed, nay, half-distraught at this adventure strange, now recognised the knight,—a courtly guest, esteemed among the brave, the courteous, and the sage.

Adroit in arms, gay, graceful, and beloved; among the first in strife, yet kind and modest too,—this lord was master of the seven arts, and in all spells was versed. For some time past between him and the king a compact stood, whereby it was agreed, if he himself transformed when all the court was met, he should as guerdon three good gifts receive—a cup of gold, a charger of great price, and from the fairest damsel a sweet kiss.

Gawain at once ran up, fearing his uncle in his fell was crushed; and you may safely judge of his surprise—finding him thus, in high good humour, stand loud laughing with the beast.

"In faith, fair friend," quoth he, "you can indeed enchant poor folks, and force even barons to throw off their clothes."

"You may resume them, good my lord," said the enchanter in the same gay tone; "for lo! the king no longer needs their use."

They did indeed soon put them on again, nor stayed to pick or choose; the court at once returned to fair Carlisle, the monarch and Sir Gawain riding on a-head. The palace-walls soon echoed with their joy. The pages brought them wherewithal to wash, and soon the knights were placed about the board. Grand was that court, and rich and brave and good; many a puissant name, full many a king, and many a duke and count, were seated there. Gawain the valiant knight and Ivan the well-bred, each holding the queen's arm, then led her in, where, at the table, sat she 'neath the king. Gawain then placed himself the other side, and Ivan by the queen: at once with laughter they began to tell of the enchanter's skill; and when Queen Guenever, and they, the knights who were not in the wood, had learned the doings there, they were indeed surprised; and soon loud laughed and chatted with the rest. Meanwhile Sir Quex before the king and fair Queen Ghieneyer the golden dishes placed; he then sat down to eat his own good meal, for he did boast a famous appetite, while ready pages served the other knights. Nothing was wanting at that banquet high: the roebuck, kid, and succulent wild-boar; the crane, the bustard, capons, swans, wild-geese; peacocks, and fine fat hens and partridges; white bread and purest wine,—of all good things the best was there beheld. Served by a host of graceful youths beside, the guests did honour to the feast.

Eating and drinking then engaged each thought; when straight there entered, mounting a fleet horse, with spotted robe, a youthful squire, tall and of noble mien. Never, do I believe, was man more finely-shaped. His shoulders were at least two cubits broad, his features regular, his eyes were sparkling, full of love and mirth; his hair was shining as the brightest gold, his arms were large and square, his teeth as ivory white. His frame, which tapered at the waist, was well developed, and displayed his strength. His legs were long and straight, and feet high-arched.

His violet and well-cut robe rested in graceful folds on hose of the same hue. A garland of fresh flowers crowned his brows, to which the sun had given a deeper tint, heightening the colour of his ruddy cheeks.

Entering the hall, he alighted from his horse, and came with quick and joyous step to kneel at the good monarch's feet. He then his purpose opened with these words:

"May He who made this world and all it holds; He who no suzerain hath,—now save the king, and all that 's his!"

"Friend," replied Arthur, "thank thee for those words; if thou dost seek a boon, it shall be thine."

"My liege, I am a squire, come from far unto your court, because I knew so doing I should meet the best of kings; and I conjure you for St. Mary's sake, if you so please, to arm me now a knight."

"Friend," said the king, "arise, and take thy seat; it shall be done thee even as thou wilt."

"Never, my liege, if you permit, will I uprise from hence till you have granted me the boon I ask."

"It is conceded," then exclaimed the king.

The squire arose as these fair words were said, and went to take his place at that rich board. But scarcely was this done, than lo! the guests beheld a knight, well armed, and on a charger fleet, come riding in. Crossing the hall, he with his lance did strike a lord upon the breast, and stretched him dying just before the queen. He then rode out, exclaiming