And in the afternoon, when Gawayne learned
That his good host, the baron, had returned,
He met him in the hall at candle-light,
According to his promise of last night. 
And then the baron motioned to a page,
And straightway six tall men, of lusty age
And mighty sinews, entered the great door,
Bearing the carcass of a huge wild boar,
In all its uncouth ugliness complete,
And dropped it quivering at our hero’s feet. 
“What do you say to that, Sir Gawayne?” cried
The baron, swelling with true sportsman’s pride
“But come:  your promise, now, of yester-eve;
’T is blesseder to give than to receive! 
Though I’ll be sworn you’ll find it hard to pay
Full value for the winnings of this day.” 
“Not so,” said Gawayne; “you will rest my debtor;
Your gift is good, but mine will be far better.” 
And then he strode with solemn steps along
The echoing hall, and through the listening throng,
And with the words, “My noble lord, take this!”
He gave the baron a resounding kiss. 
The baron jumped up in ecstatic glee. 
“Now by my great-great-grandsire’s beard,” quoth he,
“Better than all dead boars in Christendom
Is one sweet loving kiss!—­Whence did it come?”
“Nay, there,” Sir Gawayne said, “you step beyond
The terms we stipulated in our bond. 
Take you my kiss in peace, as I your boar;
Be glad; give thanks;—­and seek to know no more.” 
Loud laughter made the baron’s eyes grow bright
And glitter with green sparkles of delight;
And then he chuckled:  “Sir, I’m proud of you;
I drink your best of health; I think you’ll do!”

And now the board was laid and dressed, and all
Sat down to dinner at the baron’s call;
And Gawayne looked along the room askance,
Seeking the lady; and he caught one glance
Of laughing eyes—­then looked away in haste,
But turned again, and wondered why his taste
Had erred so strangely, for the lady seemed
Not fairer now than others.  Had he dreamed? 
He rubbed his eyes and pondered,—­though in sooth
Without one glimmering presage of the truth,—­
Till all passed lightly from his puzzled mind,
Leaving contentment and good cheer behind. 
So all the company feasted well, and sped
The flying hours, till it was time for bed.

One whole day longer must our hero rest
Within doors, to fulfill the merry jest. 
So when, next morning, Gawayne once more heard
The hunt’s-up in the court, he never stirred,
But let the merry horsemen ride away
While he slept soundly well into the day. 
Later he rose, and strolled from room to room,
Through vaulted twilights of ancestral gloom,
Until, descending a long stair, he found
The dim-lit castle crypt, deep under ground,
Where sculptured effigies forever kept
Their long last marble silence as they slept,
And iron sentinels, on bended knees,
Held eyeless vigil in old panoplies.