“Prince, when of late ye pray’d me for my leave
  To move to your own land, and there defend
  Your marches, I was prick’d with some reproof,
  As one that let foul wrong stagnate and be,
  By having look’d too much thro’ alien eyes,
  And wrought too long with delegated hands,
  Not used mine own:  but now behold me come
  To cleanse this common sewer of all my realm,
  With Edyrn and with others:  have ye look’d
  At Edyrn? have ye seen how nobly changed? 
  This work of his is great and wonderful. 
  His very face with change of heart is changed,
  The world will not believe a man repents: 
  And this wise world of ours is mainly right. 
  Full seldom doth a man repent, or use
  Both grace and will to pick the vicious quitch[6]
  Of blood and custom wholly out of him,
  And make all clean, and plant himself afresh. 
  Edyrn has done it, weeding all his heart
  As I will weed this land before I go. 
  I, therefore, made him of our Table Round,
  Not rashly, but have proved him everyway
  One of our noblest, our most valorous,
  Sanest and most obedient:  and indeed
  This work of Edyrn wrought upon himself
  After a life of violence, seems to me
  A thousand-fold more great and wonderful
  Than if some knight of mine, risking his life,
  My subject with my subjects under him,
  Should make an onslaught single on a realm
  Of robbers, tho’ he slew them one by one,
  And were himself nigh wounded to the death.”

[Footnote:  6. Quitch is another name for couch-grass, a troublesome weed which spreads rapidly and is eradicated only with the greatest difficulty.]

    So spake the King; low bow’d the Prince, and felt
  His work was neither great nor wonderful,
  And past to Enid’s tent; and thither came
  The King’s own leech to look into his hurt;
  And Enid tended on him there; and there
  Her constant motion round him, and the breath
  Of her sweet tendance hovering over him,
  Fill’d all the genial courses of his blood
  With deeper and with ever deeper love,
  As the south-west that blowing Bala lake
  Fills all the sacred Dee.  So past the days.

    Then, when Geraint was whole again, they past
  With Arthur to Caerleon upon Usk. 
  There the great Queen once more embraced her friend,
  And clothed her in apparel like the day. 
  Thence after tarrying for a space they rode,
  And fifty knights rode with them to the shores
  Of Severn, and they past to their own land. 
  And there he kept the justice of the King
  So vigorously yet mildly, that all hearts
  Applauded, and the spiteful whisper died: 
  And being ever foremost in the chase,
  And victor at the tilt and tournament,
  They called him the great Prince and man of men. 
  But Enid, whom the ladies loved to call
  Enid the Fair, a grateful people named
  Enid the Good; and in their halls arose
  The cry of children, Enids and Geraints
  Of times to be; nor did he doubt her more,
  But rested in her fealty, till he crown’d
  A happy life with a fair death, and fell
  Against the heathen of the Northern Sea
  In battle, fighting for the blameless King.