In the summer-house of the Cornish king
\nI kneeled to Mark at a banqueting,
\nI saw the hand of the queen Iseult;
\ndown her arm a ruddy bold
\nfired the tinder of my brain
\nto measure the shape of man again;
\nI heard the king say: ‘Little we know
\nof verse here; let the stranger show
\na trick of the Persian music-craft.’
\nIseult smiled and Tristram laughed.
\nHer arm exposed on the board, between
\nMark and Tristram sat the queen,
\nbut neither Mark nor Tristram sought
\nthe passion of substantial thought,
\nneither Mark not Tristram heard
\nthe accent of the antique word.
\nOnly the uncrossed Saracen
\nsang amid the heavy Cornish men;
\nonly, a folly amid fighting lords,
\nI caught her arm in a mesh of chords,
\nand the speech of Moslem Ispahan
\nswung the hazels of Lateran.<\/p>\n
From The Coming of Palomides, in Taliessin Through Logres, by Charles Williams<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
In the summer-house of the Cornish king I kneeled to Mark at a banqueting, I saw the hand of the queen Iseult; down her arm a ruddy bold fired the tinder of my brain to measure the shape of man again; I heard the king say: ‘Little we know of verse here; let the stranger … <\/p>\n