| |
| “PLUNGE thy right hand in St. Madron’s spring, | |
| If true to its troth be the palm you bring; | |
| But if a false sigil thy fingers bear, | |
| Lay them the rather on the burning share.” | |
| |
| Loud laughed King Arthur when-as he heard | 5 |
| That solemn friar his boding word; | |
| And blithely he sware as a king he may, | |
| “We tryst for St. Madron’s at break of day.” | |
| |
| “Now horse and hattock, both but and ben,” | |
| Was the cry at Lauds, with Dundagel men; | 10 |
| And forth they pricked upon Routorr side, | |
| As goodly a raid as a king could ride. | |
| |
| Proud Gwennivar rode like a queen of the land, | |
| With page and with squire at her bridle hand; | |
| And the twice six knights of the stony ring, | 15 |
| They girded and guarded their Cornish king. | |
| |
| Then they halted their steeds at St. Madron’s cell, | |
| And they stood by the monk of the cloistered well; | |
| “Now off with your gauntlets,” King Arthur he cried, | |
| “And glory or shame for our Tamar side.” | 20 |
| |
| ’T were sooth to sing how Sir Gauvain smiled, | |
| When he grasped the waters so soft and mild; | |
| How Sir Lancelot dashed the glistening spray | |
| O’er the rugged beard of the rough Sir Kay. | |
| |
| Sir Bevis he touched and he found no fear; | 25 |
| ’T was a bénitée stoup to Sir Belvidere; | |
| How the fountain flashed o’er King Arthur’s Queen, | |
| Say, Cornish dames, for ye guess the scene. | |
| |
| “Now rede me my riddle, Sir Mordred, I pray, | |
| My kinsmen, mine ancient, my Bien-aimé; | 30 |
| Now rede me my riddle, and rede it aright, | |
| Art thou traitorous knave or my trusty knight?” | |
| |
| He plunged his right arm in the judgment well, | |
| It bubbled and boiled like a caldron of hell: | |
| He drew and he lifted his quivering limb, | 35 |
| Ha! Sir Judas, how Madron had sodden him. | |
| |
| Now let Uter Pendragon do what he can, | |
| Still the Tamar River will run as it ran; | |
| Let king or let kaisar be fond or be fell, | |
| Ye may harowe their troth in St. Madron’s well. | 40 |
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