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the Equinox - The Hermetic Library

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22<br />

VII<br />

BEHOLD Sir Lancelot of <strong>the</strong> Lake<br />

Breasting <strong>the</strong> stony screes: behold<br />

How breath must fail and muscle ache<br />

Before he reach <strong>the</strong> icy fold<br />

That Palamede <strong>the</strong> Saracen<br />

Within its hermitage may hold.<br />

At last he cometh to a den<br />

Perched high upon <strong>the</strong> savage scaur,<br />

Remote from every haunt of men,<br />

From every haunt of life afar.<br />

<strong>The</strong>re doth he find Sit Palamede<br />

Sitting as steadfast as a star.<br />

Scarcely he knew <strong>the</strong> knight indeed,<br />

For he was compassed in a beard<br />

White as <strong>the</strong> streams of snow that feed<br />

<strong>The</strong> lake of Gods and men revered<br />

That sitteth upon Caucasus.<br />

So muttered he a darkling weird,

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