Idylls of the King (Unabridged). Alfred Tennyson

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ Last, Gareth loosed his bonds and on free feet

       Set him, a stalwart Baron, Arthur’s friend.

      ‘Well that ye came, or else these caitiff rogues

       Had wreaked themselves on me; good cause is theirs

       To hate me, for my wont hath ever been

       To catch my thief, and then like vermin here

       Drown him, and with a stone about his neck;

       And under this wan water many of them

       Lie rotting, but at night let go the stone,

       And rise, and flickering in a grimly light

       Dance on the mere. Good now, ye have saved a life

       Worth somewhat as the cleanser of this wood.

       And fain would I reward thee worshipfully.

       What guerdon will ye?’

       Gareth sharply spake,

       ‘None! for the deed’s sake have I done the deed,

       In uttermost obedience to the King.

       But wilt thou yield this damsel harbourage?’

      Whereat the Baron saying, ‘I well believe

       You be of Arthur’s Table,’ a light laugh

       Broke from Lynette, ‘Ay, truly of a truth,

       And in a sort, being Arthur’s kitchen-knave! —

       But deem not I accept thee aught the more,

       Scullion, for running sharply with thy spit

       Down on a rout of craven foresters.

       A thresher with his flail had scattered them.

       Nay — for thou smellest of the kitchen still.

       But an this lord will yield us harbourage,

       Well.’

      So she spake. A league beyond the wood,

       All in a full-fair manor and a rich,

       His towers where that day a feast had been

       Held in high hall, and many a viand left,

       And many a costly cate, received the three.

       And there they placed a peacock in his pride

       Before the damsel, and the Baron set

       Gareth beside her, but at once she rose.

      ‘Meseems, that here is much discourtesy,

       Setting this knave, Lord Baron, at my side.

       Hear me — this morn I stood in Arthur’s hall,

       And prayed the King would grant me Lancelot

       To fight the brotherhood of Day and Night —

       The last a monster unsubduable

       Of any save of him for whom I called —

       Suddenly bawls this frontless kitchen-knave,

       “The quest is mine; thy kitchen-knave am I,

       And mighty through thy meats and drinks am I.”

       Then Arthur all at once gone mad replies,

       “Go therefore,” and so gives the quest to him —

       Him — here — a villain fitter to stick swine

       Than ride abroad redressing women’s wrong,

       Or sit beside a noble gentlewoman.’

      Then half-ashamed and part-amazed, the lord

       Now looked at one and now at other, left

       The damsel by the peacock in his pride,

       And, seating Gareth at another board,

       Sat down beside him, ate and then began.

      ‘Friend, whether thou be kitchen-knave, or not,

       Or whether it be the maiden’s fantasy,

       And whether she be mad, or else the King,

       Or both or neither, or thyself be mad,

       I ask not: but thou strikest a strong stroke,

       For strong thou art and goodly therewithal,

       And saver of my life; and therefore now,

       For here be mighty men to joust with, weigh

       Whether thou wilt not with thy damsel back

       To crave again Sir Lancelot of the King.

       Thy pardon; I but speak for thine avail,

       The saver of my life.’

      And Gareth said,

       ‘Full pardon, but I follow up the quest,

       Despite of Day and Night and Death and Hell.’

      So when, next morn, the lord whose life he saved

       Had, some brief space, conveyed them on their way

       And left them with God-speed, Sir Gareth spake,

       ‘Lead, and I follow.’ Haughtily she replied.

      ‘I fly no more: I allow thee for an hour.

       Lion and stout have isled together, knave,

       In time of flood. Nay, furthermore, methinks

       Some ruth is mine for thee. Back wilt thou, fool?

       For hard by here is one will overthrow

       And slay thee: then will I to court again,

       And shame the King for only yielding me

       My champion from the ashes of his hearth.’

      To whom Sir Gareth answered courteously,

       ‘Say thou thy say, and I will do my deed.

       Allow me for mine hour, and thou wilt find

       My fortunes all as fair as hers who lay

       Among the ashes and wedded the King’s son.’

      Then to the shore of one of those long loops

       СКАЧАТЬ