He passed with knightly bow, and joined the court,
And left her with a glory in her eyes. 
Never was Gwendolaine so radiant
As on that evening; courtiers one by one
Drew near, and marvelled at her loveliness. 
When the great feast was ended, she was well
Content to leave the court for Tormalot;
For, in the quiet of her chamber, when
Sir Torm had slept, she lived in thought again
The sure triumphant moment when she knew,
Beyond all peradventure, of a love
That her heart told her was above all love
Of other men in strength and purity. 
And on the morrow, when she woke, her joy
Woke with her, and encompassed her soul.

In strides Sir Torm, equipped for tournament. 
The Lady Gwendolaine goes not to-day,
For it will be a savage tournament,
“Unfit for ladies,” Torm had said to her,
“Unworthy men,” she thought, but did not say.

“Come, Gwendolaine, my beauty, ere I go,
I wait to have you buckle on my sword.”

Smiling, she does his bidding.

“Ah! my Torm,
How heavy, and how mighty is your sword;
I revel in the glory of your strength,
And in your prowess.  Well I mind me, dear,
When first I saw you, on your charger black,
Riding in knightly state to my old home. 
‘By our King Arthur’s soul,’ my father said,
‘There is a knight of valour and of strength!’
And then you wooed me to become your bride,
Me, scarce a maiden, naught but wilful child
So prone, alas to mischief and mistake,
Of humble fortune, with but whims for dower
You were so kind, so generous, you flashed
My low estate with splendour.  I recall
How my heart laughed with girlish pride and glee
At the surpassing bounty of your gifts.”

“Ha!  Gwendolaine, by the great Holy Grail
I caught an eagle when I caught that dove,
For now you are the queen of all the dames,
Even King Constantine, who seldom marks
A lady of the court, comes to your side
And flatters you with royal courtesies,
Which you receive with far too proud a grace;
For, wit ye well, I would not let it slip,
This honour of his preference for you.”

“My lord, save that I reverence him as man,
I do not care for favour of the King.”

“I care, that is enough for you,” said Torm. 
“No knight has charger like my Roanault,
No knight has castle like my Tormalot,
And none has mistress like my Gwendolaine—­
I choose that none approach her but the King.”

He laughed a loud and taunting laugh, and turned
And kissed her with a loud resounding kiss.

“I think the King is safe for you, and well
For me in my advancement.  Other knights
May serve you at a distance, but had best
Not seek your side too often.”

Her sweet head
Lay like a lily on his mailed breast,
While she toyed lightly with the yellow scarf
That floated from his helmet.