What tale did Iseult to the children say,
Under the hollies, that bright-winter’s day? 
She told them of the fairy-haunted land
Away the other side of Brittany,
Beyond the heaths, edged by the lonely sea; 155
Of the deep forest-glades of Broce-liande, deg. deg.156
Through whose green boughs the golden sunshine creeps
Where Merlin by the enchanted thorn-tree sleeps. 
For here he came with the fay deg.  Vivian, deg.158
One April, when the warm days first began. 
He was on foot, and that false fay, his friend, 160
On her white palfrey; here he met his end,
In these lone sylvan glades, that April-day. 
This tale of Merlin and the lovely fay deg. deg.163
Was the one Iseult chose, and she brought clear
Before the children’s fancy him and her. 165

Blowing between the stems, the forest-air
Had loosen’d the brown locks of Vivian’s hair,
Which play’d on her flush’d cheek, and her blue eyes
Sparkled with mocking glee and exercise. 
Her palfrey’s flanks were mired and bathed in sweat, 170
For they had travell’d far and not stopp’d yet. 
A brier in that tangled wilderness
Had scored her white right hand, which she allows
To rest ungloved on her green riding-dress;
The other warded off the drooping boughs. 175
But still she chatted on, with her blue eyes
Fix’d full on Merlin’s face, her stately prize. 
Her ’haviour had the morning’s fresh clear grace,
The spirit of the woods was in her face. 
She look’d so witching fair, that learned wight 180
Forgot his craft, and his best wits took flight;
And he grew fond, and eager to obey
His mistress, use her empire deg. as she may. deg.184
They came to where the brushwood ceased, and day 185
Peer’d ’twixt the stems; and the ground broke away,
In a sloped sward down to a brawling brook;
And up as high as where they stood to look
On the brook’s farther side was clear, but then
The underwood and trees began again. 190
This open glen was studded thick with thorns
Then white with blossom; and you saw the horns,
Through last year’s fern, of the shy fallow-deer
Who come at noon down to the water here. 
You saw the bright-eyed squirrels dart along 195
Under the thorns on the green sward; and strong
The blackbird whistled from the dingles near,
And the weird chipping of the woodpecker
Rang lonelily and sharp; the sky was fair,
And a fresh breath of spring stirr’d everywhere. 200
Merlin and Vivian stopp’d on the slope’s brow,
To gaze on the light sea of leaf and bough
Which glistering plays all round them, lone and mild.