said,
  Except the passage that he loved her not;
  Nor left unto the craft herself had used;
  But ended with apology so sweet,
  Low-spoken, and of so few words, and seem’d
  So justified by that necessity,
  That tho’ he thought “was it for him she wept
  In Devon?” he but gave a wrathful groan,
  Saying, “Your sweet faces make good fellows fools
  And traitors.  Call the host and bid him bring
  Charger and palfrey.”  So she glided out
  Among the heavy breathings of the house,
  And like a household Spirit at the walls
  Beat, till she woke the sleepers, and return’d. 
  Then tending her rough lord, tho’ all unask’d,
  In silence, did him service as a squire;
  Till issuing arm’d he found the host and cried,
  “Thy reckoning, friend?” and ere he learnt it, “Take
  Five horses and their armors;” and the host
  Suddenly honest, answer’d in amaze,
  “My lord, I scarce have spent the worth of one!”
  “Ye will be all the wealthier,” said the Prince,
  And then to Enid, “Forward! and to-day
  I charge you, Enid, more especially,
  What thing soever ye may hear, or see,
  Or fancy (tho’ I count it of small use
  To charge you) that ye speak not but obey.”

    And Enid answer’d, “Yea, my lord, I know
  Your wish, and would obey; but riding first,
  I hear the violent threats you do not hear,
  I see the danger which you cannot see: 
  Then not to give you warning, that seems hard;
  Almost beyond me:  yet I would obey.”

    “Yea so,” said he, “do it:  be not too wise;
  Seeing that ye are wedded to a man,
  Not all mismated with a yawning clown,
  But one with arms to guard his head and yours,
  With eyes to find you out however far,
  And ears to hear you even in his dreams.”

    With that he turn’d and look’d as keenly at her
  As careful robins eye the delver’s toil;
  And that within her, which a wanton fool,
  Or hasty judger would have call’d her guilt,
  Made her cheek burn and either eyelid fall. 
  And Geraint look’d and was not satisfied.

    Then forward by a way which, beaten broad,
  Led from the territory of false Limours
  To the waste earldom of another earl,
  Doorm, whom his shaking vassals call’d the Bull,
  Went Enid with her sullen follower on. 
  Once she look’d back, and when she saw him ride
  More near by many a rood than yestermorn,
  It wellnigh made her cheerful; till Geraint
  Waving an angry hand as who should say
  “Ye watch me,” sadden’d all her heart again. 
  But while the sun yet beat a dewy blade,
  The sound of many a heavily-galloping hoof
  Smote on her ear, and turning round she saw
  Dust, and the points of lances bicker in it. 
  Then not to disobey her lord’s behest,
  And yet to give him warning, for he rode
  As if he heard not, moving back she held