The Chapel in Lyoness
Sir Ozana le Cure Hardy. Sir Galahad. Sir Bors de Ganys.
SIR OZANA.

All day long and every day,

From Christmas–Eve to Whit–Sunday,

Within that Chapel-aisle I lay,

And no man came a-near.

Naked to the waist was I,

And deep within my breast did lie,

Though no man any blood could spy,

The truncheon of a spear.

No meat did ever pass my lips

Those days. Alas! the sunlight slips

From off the gilded parclose, dips,

And night comes on apace.

My arms lay back behind my head;

Over my raised-up knees was spread

A samite cloth of white and red;

A rose lay on my face.

Many a time I tried to shout;

But as in dream of battle-rout,

My frozen speech would not well out;

I could not even weep.

With inward sigh I see the sun

Fade off the pillars one by one,

My heart faints when the day is done,

Because I cannot sleep.

Sometimes strange thoughts pass through my head;

Not like a tomb is this my bed,

Yet oft I think that I am dead;

That round my tomb is writ,

‘Ozana of the hardy heart,

Knight of the Table Round,

Pray for his soul, lords, of your part;

A true knight he was found.’

Ah! me, I cannot fathom it. [He sleeps.
SIR GALAHAD.

All day long and every day,

Till his madness pass’d away,

I watch’d Ozana as he lay

Within the gilded screen.

All my singing moved him not;

As I sung my heart grew hot,

With the thought of Launcelot

Far away, I ween.

So I went a little space

From out the chapel, bathed my face

In the stream that runs apace

By the churchyard wall.

There I pluck’d a faint wild rose,

Hard by where the linden grows,

Sighing over silver rows

Of the lilies tall.

I laid the flower across his mouth;

The sparkling drops seem’d good for drouth;

He smiled, turn’d round towards the south.

Held up a golden tress.

The light smote on it from the west;

He drew the covering from his breast,

Against his heart that hair he prest;

Death him soon will bless.
SIR BORS.

I enter’d by the western door;

I saw a knight’s helm lying there:

I raised my eyes from off the floor,

And caught the gleaming of his hair.

I stept full softly up to him;

I laid my chin upon his head;

I felt him smile; my eyes did swim,

I was so glad he was not dead.

I heard Ozana murmur low,

‘There comes no sleep nor any love.’

But Galahad stoop’d and kiss’d his brow:

He shiver’d; I saw his pale lips move.
SIR OZANA.

There comes no sleep nor any love;

Ah me! I shiver with delight.

I am so weak I cannot move;

God move me to thee, dear, to-night!

Christ help! I have but little wit:

My life went wrong; I see it writ,

‘Ozana of the hardy heart,

Knight of the Table Round,

Pray for his soul, lords, on your part;

A good knight he was found.’

Now I begin to fathom it. [He dies.
SIR BORS.

Galahad sits dreamily;

What strange things may his eyes see,

Great blue eyes fix’d full on me?

On his soul, Lord, have mercy.
SIR GALAHAD.

Ozana, shall I pray for thee?

Her cheek is laid to thine;

No long time hence, also I see

Thy wasted fingers twine

Within the tresses of her hair

That shineth gloriously,

Thinly outspread in the clear air

Against the jasper sea.