As he went about among the boats he espied Sir Gawaine lying more dead than alive, for in the battle he had received a blow which had reopened the wound Launcelot had given him.  When Arthur saw Gawaine he cried to the stricken knight, “My sister’s son, here you lie at the point of death, the one man in the world I love most.  Now is my joy all gone.  Sir Launcelot had all my friendship and you all my love, both of which are gone utterly from me.  Now indeed is my earthly joy all departed.”

“My uncle, King Arthur,” said Gawaine, “you know that this is my death day, and that all has come through my own hastiness; for now am I smitten on an old wound which Sir Launcelot gave me, and I know well I must die.  If Sir Launcelot had been with you, this unhappy war had never begun.  Now am I the cause of all this, for now I know it was Sir Launcelot that kept his enemies in subjection.  I could not join in friendship with him while I lived, but now as I die I pray you give me paper, pen and ink that I may write to Launcelot with mine own hand.”

When the writing materials were brought Gawaine sat weakly up and wrote this, “Unto Sir Launcelot, flower of all noble knights that I have heard or saw by my days; I, Sir Gawaine, nephew of King Arthur, send you greeting and let you know that I have been smitten upon the wound that you gave me before the city of Benwick and that I have come to my death day.  I wish all the world to know that I, Sir Gawaine, knight of the Round Table, came by my death by my own seeking and not through your fault.  So I beseech you, Sir Launcelot, return again to England and sometime see my tomb and say a prayer or two for my soul.  Alas, Sir Launcelot, I beseech you by all the love that ever was between us, lose no time but cross the sea in all haste that you may rescue the noble king that made you knight, for he is in peril from that false traitor, my half-brother, Sir Mordred.

“This letter was written but two hours and a half before my death with my own hand and sealed with my heart’s blood.”

Then King Arthur wept, and sadness fell upon all who stood about.  At the hour of noon, after Sir Gawaine had received the sacrament and had begged King Arthur to send for Launcelot, he yielded up the spirit.

After the burial of Sir Gawaine, King Arthur, old before his time, with all his sorrows fresh upon him, made ready to go against Sir Mordred, who had gathered a great army in the west.

THE PASSING OF ARTHUR[*]

[Footnote *:  Note.—­The Passing of Arthur gives us the story of King Arthur from the time of Sir Gawaine’s death.]

By ALFRED TENNYSON

  That story which the bold Sir Bedivere,
  First made and latest left of all the knights,
  Told, when the man was no more than a voice
  In the white winter of his age, to those
  With whom he dwelt, new faces, other minds.