With a glad heart and right good mind will I tell the Lay that men
call Honeysuckle; and that the truth may be known of all it shall be
told as many a minstrel has sung it to my ear, and as the scribe hath
written it for our delight. It is of Tristan and Isoude, the Queen. It
is of a love which passed all other love, of love from whence came
wondrous sorrow, and whereof they died together in the self-same day.
King Mark was sorely wrath with Tristan, his sister's son, and bade
him avoid his realm, by reason of the love he bore the Queen. So
Tristan repaired to his own land, and dwelt for a full year in South
Wales, where he was born. Then since he might not come where he would
be, Tristan took no heed to his ways, but let his life run waste to
Death. Marvel not overmuch thereat, for he who loves beyond measure
must ever be sick in heart and hope, when he may not win according to
his wish. So sick in heart and mind was Tristan that he left his
kingdom, and returned straight to the realm of his banishment, because
that in Cornwall dwelt the Queen. There he hid privily in the deep
forest, withdrawn from the eyes of men; only when the evening was come,
and all things sought their rest, he prayed the peasant and other mean
folk of that country, of their charity to grant him shelter for the
night. From the serf he gathered tidings of the King. These gave again
to him what they, in turn, had taken from some outlawed knight. Thus
Tristan learned that when Pentecost was come King Mark purposed to hold
high Court at Tintagel, and keep the feast with pomp and revelry;
moreover that thither would ride Isoude, the Queen.
When Tristan heard this thing he rejoiced greatly, since the Queen
might not adventure through the forest, except he saw her with his
eyes. After the King had gone his way, Tristan entered within the wood,
and sought the path by which the Queen must come. There he cut a wand
from out a certain hazel-tree, and having trimmed and peeled it of its
bark, with his dagger he carved his name upon the wood. This he placed
upon her road, for well he knew that should the Queen but mark his name
she would bethink her of her friend. Thus had it chanced before. For
this was the sum of the writing set upon the wand, for Queen Isoude's
heart alone: how that in this wild place Tristan had lurked and waited
long, so that he might look upon her face, since without her he was
already dead. Was it not with them as with the Honeysuckle and the
Hazel tree she was passing by! So sweetly laced and taken were they in
one close embrace, that thus they might remain whilst life endured. But
should rough hands part so fond a clasping, the hazel would wither at
the root, and the honeysuckle must fail. Fair friend, thus is the case
with us, nor you without me, nor I without you.
Now the Queen fared at adventure down the forest path. She spied the
hazel wand set upon her road, and well she remembered the letters and
the name. She bade the knights of her company to draw rein, and
dismount from their palfreys, so that they might refresh themselves a
little. When her commandment was done she withdrew from them a space,
and called to her Brangwaine, her maiden, and own familiar friend. Then
she hastened within the wood, to come on him whom more she loved than
any living soul. How great the joy between these twain, that once more
they might speak together softly, face to face. Isoude showed him her
delight. She showed in what fashion she strove to bring peace and
concord betwixt Tristan and the King, and how grievously his banishment
had weighed upon her heart. Thus sped the hour, till it was time for
them to part; but when these lovers freed them from the other's arms,
the tears were wet upon their cheeks. So Tristan returned to Wales, his
own realm, even as his uncle bade. But for the joy that he had had of
her, his friend, for her sweet face, and for the tender words that she
had spoken, yea, and for that writing upon the wand, to remember all
these things, Tristan, that cunning harper, wrought a new Lay, as
shortly I have told you. Goatleaf, men call this song in English.
Chevrefeuille it is named in French; but Goatleaf or Honeysuckle, here
you have the very truth in the Lay that I have spoken.