The knight, ye wot, love’s paragon ador’d,
    And, had his heart been free, rever’d his word;
    True to his king, the fealty of his soul
    Abhorr’d all commerce with a thought so foul. 
    In fine, the sequel of my tale to tell,
    From the shent queen such bitter slander fell,
    That, with an honest indignation strong,
    The fatal secret ’scap’d Sir Lanval’s tongue: 
    ‘Yes!’ he declar’d, ’he felt love’s fullest power! 
    Yes!’ he declar’d, ’he had a paramour! 
    But one, so perfect in all female grace,
    Those charms might scarcely win her handmaid’s place;
    Those charms, were now one menial damsel near,
    Would lose this little light, and disappear.’

    Strong degradation sure the words implied;
    The queen stood mute, she could not speak for pride;
    But quick she turn’d, and to her chamber sped,
    There prostrate lay, and wept upon her bed;
    There vow’d the coming of her lord to wait,
    Nor mov’d till promis’d vengeance seal’d her hate.

    The king, that day devoted to the chace,
    Ne’er till the close of evening sought the place;
    Then at his feet the fair deceiver fell,
    And gloss’d her artful tale of mischief well;
    Told how a saucy knight his queen abus’d,
    With prayer of proffer’d love, with scorn refus’d;
    Thereat how rudely rail’d the ruffian shent,
    With slanderous speech and foul disparagement,
    And boastfully declar’d such charms array’d
    The veriest menial where his vows were paid,
    That, might one handmaid of that dame be seen,
    All eyes would shun with scorn imperial Arthur’s queen. 
    The weeping tale of her, his heart ador’d,
    Wak’d the quick wrath of her deluded lord;
    Sternly he menac’d some disastrous end
    By fire or cord, should soon that wretch attend,
    And straight dispatched three barons bold to bring
    The culprit to the presence of his king.

    Lanval! the while, the queen no longer near,
    Home to his chamber hied with heavy cheer: 
    Much did he dread his luckless boast might prove
    The eternal forfeit of his lady’s love;
    And, all impatient his dark doom to try,
    And end the pangs of dire uncertainty,
    His humble prayer he tremblingly preferr’d,
    Wo worth the while! his prayer no more was heard. 
    O! how he wail’d! how curs’d the unhappy day! 
    Deaf still remained the unrelenting fay. 
    Him, thus dismay’d, the approaching barons found;
    Outstretch’d he lay, and weeping, on the ground;
    To reckless ears their summons they declar’d,
    Lost was his fay, for nought beside he car’d;
    So forth they led him, void of will or word,
    Dead was his heart within, his wretched life abhorr’d.