Phantastes, A Faerie Romance

"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?"