The summer day was long and hot;
King Arthur rode from Camelot; And worn with court-craft, sought repose
Among the groves where Ivel flows. There, whiles he lay in shadows dim,
A wondrous sight appeared to him. A shadow drifted toward the king--
A clouded, human-seeming thing, A futile, fleeting, feeble shape
With listless arms and mouth agape, Devoid of purpose, force or will--
The foolish half-man, Keudawd Pwyll, That quavered out in plaintive key:
"Great king, arise, and strive with me!" Loud laughed the champion, "Ho! Ho! Ho!
Shall Arthur strive with such a foe?" The form that seemed of vapor spun
Waxed huge and black against the sun, Of goodly girth and ample height,
A burly carl of brawn and might That voiced a challenge bold and free:
"Arise, O man, and strive with me!" Still paltered Arthur. "Nay!" he said.
"What need of strife? My hardihead "Is proved and known; and peace is best
In summer's glow. So let me rest!" Gigantic swelled that gruesome form,
His head a cliff, his brows a storm; All ruth, all guile he cast away;
He spurned the monarch where he lay And bellowed forth in evil glee:
"Thou fool! Arise and strive with me!" Then Arthur rose for very shame.
He grappled, strove, and overcame; But deep it made his heart to groan
Before that wight was overthrown; And sore he taxed his vaulted strength
Before the giant lay his length! So panted Arthur: "Aye! Forsooth,
He called me 'Fool'--and spoke the truth. "Yea, 'fool!' to scorn a feeble foe
While false indulgence made him grow!" Boast not thy strength. Make no delay.
That foeman waxes day by day. Strike swift! Let cravens flinch or flee
If Half-Man Habit challenge thee!