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bind and insult their conqueror； Pelleas。 Gawain promises to win the
love of Ettarre for Pelleas； and； as in the poem； borrows his arms
and horse； and pretends to have slain him。 But in place of turning
Ettarre's heart towards Pelleas； Gawain becomes her lover； and
Pelleas； detecting them asleep； lays his naked sword on their necks。
He then rides home to die； but Nimue （Vivien）； the Lady of the Lake；
restores him to health and sanity。 His fever gone； he scorns
Ettarre； who； by Nimue's enchantment； now loves him as much as she
had hated him。 Pelleas weds Nimue； and Ettarre dies of a broken
heart。 Tennyson； of course； could not make Nimue （his Vivien） do
anything benevolent。 He therefore closes his poem by a repetition of
the effect in the case of Balin。 Pelleas is driven desperate by the
treachery of Gawain； the reported infidelity of Guinevere； and the
general corruption of the ideal。 A shadow falls on Lancelot and
Guinevere； and Modred sees that his hour is drawing nigh。 In spite
of beautiful passages this is not one of the finest of the Idylls；
save for the study of the fierce； hateful； and beautiful grande dame；
Ettarre。 The narrative does little to advance the general plot。 In
the original of Malory it has no connection with the Lancelot cycle；
except as far as it reveals the treachery of Gawain； the gay and
fair…spoken 〃light of love；〃 brother of the traitor Modred。 A
simpler treatment of the theme may be read in Mr Swinburne's
beautiful poem； The Tale of Balen。
It is in The Last Tournament that Modred finds the beginning of his
opportunity。 The brief life of the Ideal has burned itself out； as
the year； in its vernal beauty when Arthur came； is burning out in
autumn。 The poem is purposely autumnal； with the autumn； not of
mellow fruitfulness； but of the 〃flying gold of the ruined woodlands〃
and the dank odours of decay。 In that miserable season is held the
Tourney of the Dead Innocence； with the blood…red prize of rubies。
With a wise touch Tennyson has represented the Court as fallen not
into vice only and crime； but into positive vulgarity and bad taste。
The Tournament is a carnival of the 〃smart〃 and the third…rate。
Courtesy is dead； even Tristram is brutal； and in Iseult hatred of
her husband is as powerful as love of her lover。 The satire strikes
at England； where the world has never been corrupt with a good grace。
It is a passage of arms neither gentle nor joyous that Lancelot
presides over：…
〃The sudden trumpet sounded as in a dream
To ears but half…awaked； then one low roll
Of Autumn thunder； and the jousts began：
And ever the wind blew； and yellowing leaf
And gloom and gleam； and shower and shorn plume
Went down it。 Sighing weariedly； as one
Who sits and gazes on a faded fire；
When all the goodlier guests are past away；
Sat their great umpire； looking o'er the lists。
He saw the laws that ruled the tournament
Broken； but spake not； once； a knight cast down
Before his throne of arbitration cursed
The dead babe and the follies of the King；
And once the laces of a helmet crack'd；
And show'd him； like a vermin in its hole；
Modred； a narrow face： anon he heard
The voice that billow'd round the barriers roar
An ocean…sounding welcome to one knight；
But newly…enter'd； taller than the rest；
And armour'd all in forest green； whereon
There tript a hundred tiny silver deer；
And wearing but a holly…spray for crest；
With ever…scattering berries； and on shield
A spear； a harp； a bugleTristramlate
From overseas in Brittany return'd；
And marriage with a princess of that realm；
Isolt the WhiteSir Tristram of the Woods …
Whom Lancelot knew； had held sometime with pain
His own against him； and now yearn'd to shake
The burthen off his heart in one full shock
With Tristram ev'n to death： his strong hands gript
And dinted the gilt dragons right and left；
Until he groan'd for wrathso many of those；
That ware their ladies' colours on the casque；
Drew from before Sir Tristram to the bounds；
And there with gibes and flickering mockeries
Stood； while he mutter'd； 'Craven crests！ O shame！
What faith have these in whom they sware to love？
The glory of our Round Table is no more。'
So Tristram won； and Lancelot gave； the gems；
Not speaking other word than 'Hast thou won？
Art thou the purest； brother？ See； the hand
Wherewith thou takest this； is red！' to whom
Tristram； half plagued by Lancelot's languorous mood；
Made answer； 'Ay； but wherefore toss me this
Like a dry bone cast to some hungry hound？
Let be thy fair Queen's fantasy。 Strength of heart
And might of limb； but mainly use and skill；
Are winners in this pastime of our King。
My handbelike the lance hath dript upon it …
No blood of mine； I trow； but O chief knight；
Right arm of Arthur in the battlefield；
Great brother； thou nor I have made the world；
Be happy in thy fair Queen as I in mine。'
And Tristram round the gallery made his horse
Caracole； then bow'd his homage； bluntly saying；
'Fair damsels； each to him who worships each
Sole Queen of Beauty and of love； behold
This day my Queen of Beauty is not here。'
And most of these were mute； some anger'd； one
Murmuring； 'All courtesy is dead；' and one；
'The glory of our Round Table is no more。'
Then fell thick rain； plume droopt and mantle clung；
And pettish cries awoke； and the wan day
Went glooming down in wet and weariness：
But under her black brows a swarthy one
Laugh'd shrilly； crying； 'Praise the patient saints；
Our one white day of Innocence hath past；
Tho' somewhat draggled at the skirt。 So be it。
The snowdrop only； flowering thro' the year；
Would make the world as blank as Winter…tide。
Comelet us gladden their sad eyes； our Queen's
And Lancelot's； at this night's solemnity
With all the kindlier colours of the field。'〃
Arthur's last victory over a robber knight is ingloriously squalid：…
〃He ended： Arthur knew the voice； the face
Wellnigh was helmet…hidden； and the name
Went wandering somewhere darkling in his mind。
And Arthur deign'd not use of word or sword；
But let the drunkard； as he stretch'd from horse
To strike him； overbalancing his bulk；
Down from the causeway heavily to the swamp
Fall； as the crest of some slow…arching wave；
Heard in dead night along that table…shore；
Drops flat； and after the great waters break
Whitening for half a league； and thin themselves；
Far over sands marbled with moon and cloud；
From less and less to nothing； thus he fell
Head…heavy； then the knights； who watch'd him； roar'd
And shouted and leapt down upon the fall'n；
There trampled out his face from being known；
And sank his head in mire； and slimed themselves：
Nor heard the King for their own cries； but sprang
Thro' open doors； and swording right and left
Men； women； on their sodden faces； hurl'd
The tables over and the wines； and slew
Till all the rafters rang with woman…yells；
And all the pavement stream'd with massacre：
Then； echoing yell with yell； they fired the tower；
Which half that autumn night； like the live North；
Red…pulsing up thro' Alioth and Alcor；
Made all above it； and a hundred meres
About it； as the water Moab saw
Come round by the East；