ady to follow Sir Tristram. Fair
friend, said Morgan, ride not after that knight, for ye shall not win no
worship of him. Fie on him, coward, said Sir Hemison, for I wist never
good knight come out of Cornwall but if it were Sir Tristram de Liones.
What an that be he? said she. Nay, nay, said he, he is with La Beale
Isoud, and this is but a daffish knight. Alas, my fair friend, ye shall
find him the best knight that ever ye met withal, for I know him better
than ye do. For your sake, said Sir Hemison, I shall slay him. Ah, fair
friend, said the queen, me repenteth that ye will follow that knight,
for I fear me sore of your again coming. With this this knight rode his
way wood wroth, and he rode after Sir Tristram as fast as he had been
chased with knights. When Sir Tristram heard a knight come after him so
fast he returned about, and saw a knight coming against him. And when he
came nigh to Sir Tristram he cried on high: Sir knight, keep thee from
me. Then they rushed together as it had been thunder, and Sir Hemison
brised his spear upon Sir Tristram, but his harness was so good that
he might not hurt him. And Sir Tristram smote him harder, and bare him
through the body, and he fell over his horse's croup. Then Sir Tristram
turned to have done more with his sword, but he saw so much blood go
from him that him seemed he was likely to die, and so he departed from
him and came to a fair manor to an old knight, and there Sir Tristram
lodged.

CHAPTER XLIII. How Morgan le Fay buried her paramour, and how Sir
Tristram praised Sir Launcelot and his kin.

NOW leave to speak of Sir Tristram, and speak we of the knight that was
wounded to the death. Then his varlet alighted, and took off his helm,
and then he asked his lord whether there were any life in him. There
is in me life said the knight, but it is but little; and therefore leap
thou up behind me when thou hast holpen me up, and hold me fast that
I fall not, and bring me to Queen Morgan le Fay; for deep draughts of
death draw to my heart that I may not live, for I would fain speak
with her or I died: for else my soul will be in great peril an I die.
For[thwith] with great pain his varlet brought him to the castle, and
there Sir Hemison fell down dead. When Morgan le Fay saw him dead she
made great sorrow out of reason; and then she let despoil him unto his
shirt, and so she let him put into a tomb. And about the tomb she let
write: Here lieth Sir Hemison, slain by the