"Ah, let a man beware, when his wishes, fulfilled, rain down
upon him, and his happiness is unbounded."
"Thy red lips, like worms,
Travel over my cheek."
--MOTHERWELL.
But as I crossed the space between the foot of the hill and the forest,
a vision of another kind delayed my steps. Through an opening to
the westward flowed, like a stream, the rays of the setting sun, and
overflowed with a ruddy splendour the open space where I was. And riding
as it were down this stream towards me, came a horseman in what appeared
red armour. From frontlet to tail, the horse likewise shone red in the
sunset.
I felt as if I must have seen the knight before; but as he drew
near, I could recall no feature of his countenance. Ere he came up
to me, however, I remembered the legend of Sir Percival in the rusty
armour, which I had left unfinished in the old book in the cottage: it
was of Sir Percival that he reminded me. And no wonder; for when he came
close up to me, I saw that, from crest to heel, the whole surface of his
armour was covered with a light rust. The golden spurs shone, but the
iron greaves glowed in the sunlight. The MORNING STAR, which hung from
his wrist, glittered and glowed with its silver and bronze. His whole
appearance was terrible; but his face did not answer to this appearance.
It was sad, even to gloominess; and something of shame seemed to cover
it. Yet it was noble and high, though thus beclouded; and the form
looked lofty, although the head drooped, and the whole frame was bowed
as with an inward grief. The horse seemed to share in his master's
dejection, and walked spiritless and slow. I noticed, too, that the
white plume on his helmet was discoloured and drooping. "He has fallen
in a joust with spears," I said to myself; "yet it becomes not a noble
knight to be conquered in spirit because his body hath fallen." He
appeared not to observe me, for he was riding past without looking up,
and started into a warlike attitude the moment the first sound of my
voice reached him. Then a flush, as of shame, covered all of his face
that the lifted beaver disclosed. He returned my greeting with distant
courtesy, and passed on. But suddenly, he reined up, sat a moment still,
and then turning his horse, rode back to where I stood looking after
him.
"I am ashamed," he said, "to appear a knight, and in such a guise; but
it behoves me to tell you to take warning from me, lest the same evil,
in his kind, overtake the singer that has befallen the knight. Hast thou
ever read the story of Sir Percival and the"--(here he shuddered, that
his armour rang)--"Maiden of the Alder-tree?"