And the blade of grass bent not beneath him, so
light was his courser's tread, as he journeyed toward the gate of
Arthur's palace.
Spoke the youth: "Is there a porter?" "There is; and if thou
holdest not thy peace, small will be thy welcome. I am Arthur's
porter every first day of January." "Open the portal." "I will not
open it." "Wherefore not?" "The knife is in the meat, and the
drink is in the horn, and there is revelry in Arthur's hall; and
none may enter therein but the son of a king of a privileged
country, or a craftsman bringing his craft. But there will be
refreshment for thy dogs and for thy horse; and for thee there
will be collops cooked and peppered, and luscious wine, and
mirthful songs; and food for fifty men shall be brought unto thee
in the guest-chamber, where the stranger and the sons of other
countries eat, who come not into the precincts of the palace of
Arthur. Thou wilt fare no worse there than thou wouldst with
Arthur in the court. A lady shall smooth thy couch, and shall lull
thee with songs; and early to-morrow morning, when the gate is
open for the multitude that came hither to-day, for thee shall it
be opened first, and thou mayest sit in the place that thou shalt
choose in Arthur's hall, from the upper end to the lower." Said
the youth: "That will I not do. If thou openest the gate, it is
well.
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