She's actually Luke's father.
It was an alright scene. Probably should talk about it in the book thread instead, though.
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She's actually Luke's father.
Sir Galahad
My good blade carves the casques of men,
My tough lance thrusteth sure,
My strength is as the strength of ten,
Because my heart is pure.
The shattering trumpet shrilleth high,
The hard brands shiver on the steel,
The splinter'd spear-shafts crack and fly,
The horse and rider reel:
They reel, they roll in clanging lists,
And when the tide of combat stands,
Perfume and flowers fall in showers,
That lightly rain from ladies' hands.
How sweet are looks that ladies bend
On whom their favours fall!
For them I battle till the end,
To save from shame and thrall:
But all my heart is drawn above,
My knees are bow'd in crypt and shrine:
I never felt the kiss of love,
Nor maiden's hand in mine.
More bounteous aspects on me beam,
Me mightier transports move and thrill;
So keep I fair thro' faith and prayer
A virgin heart in work and will.
When down the stormy crescent goes,
A light before me swims,
Between dark stems the forest glows,
I hear a noise of hymns:
Then by some secret shrine I ride;
I hear a voice but none are there;
The stalls are void, the doors are wide,
The tapers burning fair.
Fair gleams the snowy altar-cloth,
The silver vessels sparkle clean,
The shrill bell rings, the censer swings,
And solemn chaunts resound between.
Sometime on lonely mountain-meres
I find a magic bark;
I leap on board: no helmsman steers:
I float till all is dark.
A gentle sound, an awful light!
Three angels bear the holy Grail:
With folded feet, in stoles of white,
On sleeping wings they sail.
Ah, blessed vision! blood of God!
My spirit beats her mortal bars,
As down dark tides the glory slides,
And star-like mingles with the stars.
When on my goodly charger borne
Thro' dreaming towns I go,
The cock crows ere the Christmas morn,
The streets are dumb with snow.
The tempest crackles on the leads,
And, ringing, springs from brand and mail;
But o'er the dark a glory spreads,
And gilds the driving hail.
I leave the plain, I climb the height;
No branchy thicket shelter yields;
But blessed forms in whistling storms
Fly o'er waste fens and windy fields.
A maiden knight--to me is given
Such hope, I know not fear;
I yearn to breathe the airs of heaven
That often meet me here.
I muse on joy that will not cease,
Pure spaces clothed in living beams,
Pure lilies of eternal peace,
Whose odours haunt my dreams;
And, stricken by an angel's hand,
This mortal armour that I wear,
This weight and size, this heart and eyes,
Are touch'd, are turn'd to finest air.
The clouds are broken in the sky,
And thro' the mountain-walls
A rolling organ-harmony
Swells up, and shakes and falls.
Then move the trees, the copses nod,
Wings flutter, voices hover clear:
"O just and faithful knight of God!
Ride on! the prize is near."
So pass I hostel, hall, and grange;
By bridge and ford, by park and pale,
All-arm'd I ride, whate'er betide,
Until I find the holy Grail.
by Alfred Lord Tennyson, 1842, illustration by W.E.F. Britten
My good blade carves the casques of men,
My tough lance thrusteth sure,
My strength is as the strength of ten,
Because my heart is pure.
The shattering trumpet shrilleth high,
The hard brands shiver on the steel,
The splinter'd spear-shafts crack and fly,
The horse and rider reel:
They reel, they roll in clanging lists,
And when the tide of combat stands,
Perfume and flowers fall in showers,
That lightly rain from ladies' hands.
How sweet are looks that ladies bend
On whom their favours fall!
For them I battle till the end,
To save from shame and thrall:
But all my heart is drawn above,
My knees are bow'd in crypt and shrine:
I never felt the kiss of love,
Nor maiden's hand in mine.
More bounteous aspects on me beam,
Me mightier transports move and thrill;
So keep I fair thro' faith and prayer
A virgin heart in work and will.
When down the stormy crescent goes,
A light before me swims,
Between dark stems the forest glows,
I hear a noise of hymns:
Then by some secret shrine I ride;
I hear a voice but none are there;
The stalls are void, the doors are wide,
The tapers burning fair.
Fair gleams the snowy altar-cloth,
The silver vessels sparkle clean,
The shrill bell rings, the censer swings,
And solemn chaunts resound between.
Sometime on lonely mountain-meres
I find a magic bark;
I leap on board: no helmsman steers:
I float till all is dark.
A gentle sound, an awful light!
Three angels bear the holy Grail:
With folded feet, in stoles of white,
On sleeping wings they sail.
Ah, blessed vision! blood of God!
My spirit beats her mortal bars,
As down dark tides the glory slides,
And star-like mingles with the stars.
When on my goodly charger borne
Thro' dreaming towns I go,
The cock crows ere the Christmas morn,
The streets are dumb with snow.
The tempest crackles on the leads,
And, ringing, springs from brand and mail;
But o'er the dark a glory spreads,
And gilds the driving hail.
I leave the plain, I climb the height;
No branchy thicket shelter yields;
But blessed forms in whistling storms
Fly o'er waste fens and windy fields.
A maiden knight--to me is given
Such hope, I know not fear;
I yearn to breathe the airs of heaven
That often meet me here.
I muse on joy that will not cease,
Pure spaces clothed in living beams,
Pure lilies of eternal peace,
Whose odours haunt my dreams;
And, stricken by an angel's hand,
This mortal armour that I wear,
This weight and size, this heart and eyes,
Are touch'd, are turn'd to finest air.
The clouds are broken in the sky,
And thro' the mountain-walls
A rolling organ-harmony
Swells up, and shakes and falls.
Then move the trees, the copses nod,
Wings flutter, voices hover clear:
"O just and faithful knight of God!
Ride on! the prize is near."
So pass I hostel, hall, and grange;
By bridge and ford, by park and pale,
All-arm'd I ride, whate'er betide,
Until I find the holy Grail.
by Alfred Lord Tennyson, 1842, illustration by W.E.F. Britten
Just read the introduction of Sir Galahad in TLotL again. So many great symbolisms, so much intelligent and well constructed awesomeness, so much to think about, I just had to pay this passage the proper tribute. I really love these books to death and I thank maestro Sapkowski for every word he wrote...
Have a nice evening, guys and gals.
Have a nice evening, guys and gals.
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The part really is great, but it was so far off what the books were originally about (what with Ciri and time/space travel, ugh), that I could not really like it. Sapkowski really should have just started a new series with that idea, imo.
Anyway, back to off-topic and awful things. I was introduced to this the other day:
Just... why... ?
Sir Galahad
Very fine verses, @Scholdarr.452 . Thank you for reminding me of them. The Matter of Britain is a fascinating and delightful cycle, with a long and glorious history that spans nearly the whole of Europe. Sir Galahad, the idealised, monkish knight, who rejects the worldly rewards of chivalry in pursuit of the attainment of absolute divine communion, is indeed an interesting figure; however, for me, Sir Gawain, champion of true lovers, servant of ladies, master healer, and defender of courtesy, shall ever bear the crown of earthly knighthood. Long live the Hawk of May!
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Thank you! However, I'm feeling rather blue of a sudden. Can't think why. . . . .
You could say it came... out of the blue. Okay, that one sucked. *flies away*
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@Lieste is a moderator too! Congratulations and good luck (strong nerves) with the moderation.
BTW new emoticons are very attractive. :wazzzup: :glee::hmm2::blegh:
BTW new emoticons are very attractive. :wazzzup: :glee::hmm2::blegh:
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Cognac.jpg
Gratz, bro! Tho TBH I started suspecting this would happen a few weeks ago
You need to change your profile pic to something more menacing. Maybe give 'em an eye-patch or a piece of shrapnel in his head.
How perceptive of you . . . .Gratz, bro! Tho TBH I started suspecting this would happen a few weeks ago
I fancy I'll leave it as is, for now -- I'm rather fond of the old bard -- but thanks for the thought.
We're going to need a new initiation ceremony, the instruments were broken after @Vigilance.492 joined.
And Gilrond, you've just given me ideas for a new avatar, so thank you.
And Gilrond, you've just given me ideas for a new avatar, so thank you.
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