I.

"My golden spurs now bring to me, And bring to me my richest mail, For to-morrow I go over land and sea, In search of the Holy Grail; Shall never a bed for me be spread, 100 Nor shall a pillow be under my head, Till I begin my vow to keep; Here on the rushes will I sleep, And perchance there may come a vision true Ere day create the world anew." 105 Slowly Sir Launfal's eyes grew dim, Slumber fell like a cloud on him, And into his soul the vision flew.