Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE FOUNDING OF THE ROUND TABLE, by LAYAMON


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE FOUNDING OF THE ROUND TABLE, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: It chanced on a yule-tide day
Last Line: Of arthur, the king, and his times.


IT chanced on a Yule-tide day
That King Arthur in London lay;
There had come to him at that tide
Vassals from far and wide;
From Scotland, and Britain bold,
From Ireland, and Iceland cold,
From every folk and land
That had bowed them to Arthur's hand.
They had sent their highest thanes,
With their horses and serving swains:
And beside the folk that, still,
Bowed them to Arthur's will,
Came seven kings' sons, I ween,
With seven hundred knights so keen.

Now each man thought in his heart
That to him fell the higher part,
And each man deemed that he were
Better than this, his peer;
The folk came from diverse lands
And envy came with their bands --
This one held him of high degree,
This other, much higher than he!
Then they blew the trumpets' blast,
And they set the boards full fast,
And bare water to young and old
In basons of good red gold.
Soft were the cloths in the hall,
Of white silk woven all.
There Arthur sat in his pride,
With Wenhavere, the queen, at his side,
And the guests in order right,
First earl, then baron, then knight,
Each found his appointed seat
As the king's men deemed it meet.
There were men right nobly born
Who did service that Yule-tide morn,
And bare the meat forth-right
To each gay and gallant knight.
Then they turned them toward the thanes,
And below those still, the swains,
Thus served they, one and all,
The folk in King Arthur's hall.
Thus all for a space went well --
But after, a change befell,
For the folk, they fell to strife,
And blows were among them rife.
First they threw the loaves of bread,
And then, when the last was sped,
The bowls of silver-shine
Filled with the good red wine.
Thereafter with fists they fought
Each the neck of his foeman sought.
Then sprang forth a young man there, --
(From Winet land did he fare
As hostage to Arthur's hand,
The king's son of Winet land,
Rumaret was his father hight --)
And out spake that gallant knight,
And cried on the king that hour;
"Lord Arthur, get to thy bower,
And take with thee Wenhavere,
And the kinsmen thou holdest dear,
And we shall fight out this fray
With the foreign folk to-day!"
And e'en as he spake the word
He leapt to the royal board
Where lay the sharp knives keen,
For the service of king and queen;
Three knives he grasped in his hand,
And he smote the chief of the band
And clave the neck of the knight
Who first began the fight,
With a blow so swift and sore
That his head rolled e'en to the floor.
Thereafter he slew another,
Even that first thane's brother,
Ere the swords might come to the hall
Seven men had he slain in all.
'T was a grim and a grisly fight,
Each man would the other smite,
Blood gushed forth at every stroke,
Bale was upon the folk.

Then forth from the king's bower strode
Arthur in wrathful mood,
And with him a hundred knights
In helmet and burnie bright;
Each bare in his strong right hand
A gleaming white steel brand.
Then Arthur, king most dear,
Cried so that all might hear:
"Sit ye down, sit ye down, each one,
As ye love your lives, sit down!
He that will not while yet he may
I doom him to death straightway!
Now take me that self-same man
Who first this fight began;
Round his neck put a withy stout,
And draw him the hall without
To the moorland and marsh hard by;
There shall ye let him lie!
Then seek out his next of kin,
All such as be here within,
And with your broad swords keen
Shall ye strike off their heads, I ween!
Then take ye his women-folk,
And with swift, and with cunning, stroke
Carve off their noses there
That they be no longer fair.
And thus will I bring to shame
The kindred of which he came!
And if it be brought to my ear,
Or I otherwise chance to hear,
That one of my house or hold,
High or low, or young or old,
Shall hereafter awaken strife
For this slaughter, I swear on my life,
Neither gold, nor goodly steed,
Nor treasure, nor warlike weed
Shall be ransom for that man's head
That he be not swiftly dead,
Or horses his limbs shall draw --
So speak I the traitor's law!
Bring me the hallows here,
On them will I soothly swear,
And so shall ye too, my knights,
And all who were at this fight."

First Arthur, the noblest of kings,
He swore by the holy things;
Then earls, and barons, and thanes,
And last of them all, the swains,
A solemn oath they swore
To wake that strife never more.
Then the dead men, one and all,
They bare them from out the hall,
And laid them low in the earth --
Then the trumpets they blew with mirth.
Each of them, were he lief or loth,
Must needs take water and cloth,
And they sat them, at one accord
Once more, adown to the board,
For they feared King Arthur's hand,
Noblest of kings on land!
The cupbearers went their round,
The harpers made merry sound,
The glee-men sang songs so good,
The folk were in gladsome mood;
Thus for full seven days all told
King Arthur his feast did hold.

Thereafter I'ld have ye know,
To Cornwall the king would go,
And there cometh to him anon
A crafty and skilful man,
And he met the king in the way,
And in greeting fair did say:
"Arthur, all hail to thee now!
Noblest of kings art thou,
I am thine own true man,
To serve thee as well I can.
I have journeyed in many a land,
Right skilful is this, mine hand,
In craft of wood, or of tree, --
But now it was told to me
The slaughter thy knights had wrought,
When of late at thy board they fought,
And how, on mid-winter's day,
Mickle pride wrought murderous play;
For that each man by right of kin,
And high lineage, would sit within.
Now I will for thee, lord, prepare
A board exceeding fair,
Where sixteen hundred may sit,
And more, if it seem thee fit.
And all they shall turn about,
So that no man shall be without,
But without and within shall they be,
Man against man, verily!
And when thou to ride art fain,
Thou shalt carry it in thy train;
And when thou shalt hold thee still,
Thou shalt stablish it at thy will;
And never shalt thou fear more,
So long as the world endure,
That for envy a moody knight
Shall raise at thy board a fight,
Of high or of low degree
All men there shall equal be!"

Then they bade men timber win
That he might the board begin;
For the space of four weeks he wrought
Ere the work to an end he brought.
Then when a high day was come
The folk he called, every one;
And Arthur himself, the lord,
Sat him down at the new-wrought board,
And he bade every gallant knight
Take his place at his side forth-right,
And when each had found his seat,
And all were sat down to meat,
Then each man spake with the other
In such wise as he were his brother.
In order they sat about,
And no man was left without;
No knight, whatsoe'er his race,
But found there a fitting place,
Were he high, were he low, in that hall
Was a place for each and all.
And each man, he quaffed at the board
The drink that was there outpoured,
Nor thought he might call for other
Than the draught that would serve his brother.

Now this was that very Round Table
Of which Britons oft-times fable;
And many a lie shall ye hear
Of Arthur that king so dear;
But I think me 't is ever so
That the custom of men doth go,
He that loveth his friend, I ween,
For his honour is over-keen,
Nor shall deem it a shame to lie
If he win him more praise thereby!

The songs that the songmen sing
Of Arthur, the noble king,
All lies are they not, nor all sooth,
But this do I hold for the truth,
There was never such other lord
So mighty in deed and in word,
For so ye may find it writ
In his history, every whit,
From the first to the last, how things
Fell out for Arthur, the king.
Neither more nor less may ye read,
But all these, his acts, and his deeds.
The Britons, they loved him well,
And many a tale they tell,
And many a wondrous thing
Concerning Arthur, the king,
Such as never were wrought by man
Since ever the world began!
Yet he who would speak but the truth
He may find, in very sooth,
Enough to shape goodly rhymes
Of Arthur, the king, and his times.





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