front,
  Glad also; then Geraint upon the horse
  Mounted, and reach’d a hand, and on his foot
  She set her own and climb’d; he turn’d his face
  And kiss’d her climbing, and she cast her arms
  About him, and at once they rode away.

    And never yet, since high in Paradise
  O’er the four rivers the first roses blew,
  Came purer pleasure unto mortal kind
  Than lived thro’ her, who in that perilous hour
  Put hand to hand beneath her husband’s heart,
  And felt him hers again:  she did not weep,
  But o’er her meek eyes came a happy mist
  Like that which kept the heart of Eden green
  Before the useful trouble of the rain: 
  Yet not so misty were her meek blue eyes
  As not to see before them on the path,
  Right in the gateway of the bandit hold,
  A knight of Arthur’s court, who laid his lance
  In rest, and made as if to fall upon him. 
  Then, fearing for his hurt and loss of blood,
  She, with her mind all full of what had chanced,
  Shriek’d to the stranger “Slay not a dead man!”
  “The voice of Enid,” said the knight; but she,
  Beholding it was Edyrn, son of Nudd,
  Was moved so much the more, and shriek’d again,
  “O cousin, slay not him who gave you life.” 
  And Edyrn moving frankly forward spake: 
  “My lord Geraint, I greet you with all love;
  I took you for a bandit knight of Doorm;
  And fear not, Enid, I should fall upon him,
  Who love you, Prince, with something of the love
  Wherewith we love the Heaven that chastens us. 
  For once, when I was up so high in pride
  That I was half-way down the slope to Hell,
  By overthrowing me you threw me higher. 
  Now, made a knight of Arthur’s Table Round,
  And since I knew this Earl, when I myself
  Was half a bandit in my lawless hour,
  I come the mouthpiece of our King to Doorm
  (The King is close behind me) bidding him
  Disband himself, and scatter all his powers,
  Submit, and hear the judgment of the King.”

    “He hears the judgment of the King of kings,”
  Cried the wan Prince; “and lo, the powers of Doorm
  Are scatter’d,” and he pointed to the field,
  Where, huddled here and there on mound and knoll,
  Were men and women staring and aghast,
  While some yet fled; and then he plainlier told
  How the huge Earl lay slain within his hall. 
  But when the knight besought him, “Follow me,
  Prince, to the camp, and in the King’s own ear
  Speak what has chanced; ye surely have endured
  Strange chances here alone;” that other flush’d,
  And hung his head, and halted in reply,
  Fearing the mild face of the blameless King,
  And after madness acted question ask’d: 
  Till Edyrn crying, “If ye will not go
  To Arthur, then will Arthur come to you.” 
  “Enough,” he said, “I follow,” and they went. 
  But Enid in their going had two fears,