And so to high-towered Camelot they came,
The golden city,—­now a shadowy name;
For over heath-clad hills the wild-winds blow
Where Arthur’s halls, a thousand years ago
Bright with all far-fetched gems of curious art,
Shone brighter with the eyes of Elfinhart. 
She came to Camelot; the king receives her;
And there for five glad years my story leaves her. 
Five glad years, and this “episode” is done,
And we are back again at Canto I.
I write of merry jest and greenwood shade,
But tales of chivalry are not my trade;
So if you wish to read that five years’ story
Of lady-love, romance, and martial glory,—­
The mighty feats of arms that Gawayne did,—­
The ever ripening love that Gawayne hid
Five long years in his breast, biding his time,—­
Go seek it in some abler poet’s rime. 
My tale begins with the young knight’s brave soul
All Elfinhart’s.  She thinks herself heart-whole.

But at that Christmas feast, in Arthur’s hall,
With night’s soft mantle folded over all,
The magic influence of the evening tide
Stole on their two hearts beating side by side. 
And Gawayne talked of troubles long ago,
When each man’s neighbor was his dearest foe,
And of the trials he himself had passed,
And the high purpose that from first to last
Had been his stay and spur, he scarce knew how,
Since on Excalibur he took the vow. 
He told of his own hopes for future days,
And how he wrought and fought not for men’s praise,
(Though like all good men Gawayne held that dear),
Yet trusting, when men laid him on his bier,
They might remember, as they gathered round it,
“He left this good world better than he found it.” 
He talked as true men seldom talk, unless
Swayed utterly by some pure passion’s stress,
And ever gently, though with heart on fire,
Still hovered nearer to his soul’s desire. 
And Elfinhart in gravest silence listened,
But her sweet heart beat high, her blue eyes glistened;
For as he bared his soul to her she dreamed
A day-dream strange and new, wherein it seemed
That in that soul’s clear depth she saw her own,
And his most secret thought (till then unknown)
Seemed hers eternally.  He spoke of death,
And then her heart shrank, and she drew deep breath. 
Suddenly, ere she understood at all
What new life dawned before her, came the call
Of fairy horns; and so the Green Knight burst
Upon the scene, as told in Canto First.

One jarring note, the tuneful chords among,
May make mad discord of the sweetest song. 
E’en so with dissonant clamor through the breast
Of Gawayne rang the Green Knight’s merry jest;
But what wild meaning must it not impart
To the vague fears of gentle Elfinhart? 
For she had heard in the first trumpet-blast
A signal to her from the far-gone past;
And now, of all the strange things that had been,