The river was dumb and could not speak,
For the weaver Winter its shroud had spun;
A single crow on the tree-top bleak

From his shining feathers shed off the cold

sun.

Again it was morning, but shrunk and cold,
As if her veins were sapless and old,
And she rose up decrepitly

For a last dim look at earth and sea.

II

Sir Launfal turned from his own hard gate, 250 For another heir in his earldom sate;

An old, bent man, worn out and frail,

He came back from seeking the Holy Grail;
Little he recked of his earldom's loss,

No more on his surcoat was blazoned the cross,
But deep in his soul the sign he wore,

The badge of the suffering and the poor.

III

Sir Launfal's raiment thin and spare
Was idle mail 'gainst the barbèd air,
For it was just at the Christmas time;
So he mused, as he sat, of a sunnier clime,
And sought for a shelter from cold and snow
In the light and warmth of long ago;
He sees the snake-like caravan crawl
O'er the edge of the desert, black and small,

260

Then nearer and nearer, till, one by one,
He can count the camels in the sun,
As over the red-hot sands they pass

To where, in its slender necklace of grass,
The little spring laughed and leapt in the

shade,

And with its own self like an infant played,
And waved its signal of palms.

270

IV

"For Christ's sweet sake, I beg an alms; "-
The happy camels may reach the spring,
But Sir Launfal sees only the grewsome thing,
The leper, lank as the rain-blanched bone,
That cowers beside him, a thing as lone
And white as the ice-isles of Northern seas
In the desolate horror of his disease.

V

And Sir Launfal said, "I behold in thee
An image of Him who died on the tree;
Thou also hast had thy crown of thorns-
Thou also hast had the world's buffets and

scorns,

And to thy life were not denied

The wounds in the hands and feet and side:

Mild Mary's Son, acknowledge me;

Behold, through him, I give to thee!"

280

VI

Then the soul of the leper stood up in his eyes And looked at Sir Launfal, and straightway

he

Remembered in what a haughtier guise
He had flung an alms to leprosie,
When he girt his young life up in gilded mail
And set forth in search of the Holy Grail.
The heart within him was ashes and dust;
He parted in twain his single crust,

He broke the ice on the streamlet's brink,
And gave the leper to eat and drink;

290

'T was a mouldy crust of coarse brown bread, 'T was water out of a wooden bowl,

Yet with fine wheaten bread was the leper

fed,

300

And 't was red wine he drank with his thirsty soul.

VII

As Sir Launfal mused with a downcast face,
A light shone round about the place;

The leper no longer crouched at his side,
But stood before him glorified,

Shining and tall and fair and straight

As the pillar that stood by the Beautiful Gate,

Himself the Gate whereby men can

Enter the temple of God in Man.

VIII

His words were shed softer than leaves from ..the pine,

And they fell on Sir Launfal as snows on the brine,

310

Which mingle their softness and quiet in one With the shaggy unrest they float down upon; And the voice that was calmer than silence said,

"Lo it is I, be not afraid!

In many climes, without avail,

Thou hast spent thy life for the Holy Grail;
Behold, it is here, this cup which thou
Didst fill at the streamlet for me but now;
This crust is my body broken for thee,
This water His blood that died on the tree;
The Holy Supper is kept, indeed,
In whatso we share with another's need;
Not what we give, but what we share,—
For the gift without the giver is bare;

320

Who gives himself with his alms feeds three,Himself, his hungering neighbor, and me."

IX

Sir Launfal awoke as from a swound:-
"The Grail in my castle here is found!
Hang my idle armor up on the wall,
Let it be the spider's banquet-hall;

330

He must be fenced with stronger mail
Who would seek and find the Holy Grail."

X

The castle gate stands open now,

And the wanderer is welcome to the hall As the hangbird is to the elm-tree bough; No longer scowl the turrets tall,

The summer's long siege at last is o'er;

When the first poor outcast went in at the door, She entered with him in disguise,

And mastered the fortress by surprise;

There is no spot she loves so well on ground, She lingers and smiles there the whole year

round;

The meanest serf on Sir Launfal's land

Has hall and bower at his command;

340

345

And there's no poor man in the North Countree But is lord of the earldom as much as he.

1848.

James Russell Lowell.

ABOU BEN ADHEM

ABOU BEN ADHEM (may his tribe increase!)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And saw within the moonlight in his room,
Making it rich and like a lily in bloom,
An angel writing in a book of gold:

Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,