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Equinox I (04).pdf

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22<br />

VII<br />

BEHOLD Sir Lancelot of the Lake<br />

Breasting the stony screes: behold<br />

How breath must fail and muscle ache<br />

Before he reach the icy fold<br />

That Palamede the Saracen<br />

Within its hermitage may hold.<br />

At last he cometh to a den<br />

Perched high upon the savage scaur,<br />

Remote from every haunt of men,<br />

From every haunt of life afar.<br />

There doth he find Sit Palamede<br />

Sitting as steadfast as a star.<br />

Scarcely he knew the knight indeed,<br />

For he was compassed in a beard<br />

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

The lake of Gods and men revered<br />

That sitteth upon Caucasus.<br />

So muttered he a darkling weird,

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