"All that mankind has done, thought, gained or been: it is lying as in magic preservation in the pages of books."
-Thomas Carlyle

by Paul Lytle

    Anon the knight did ride, the moon in wane,
and down upon the silver valley stared:
the Questing Beast, a spotless hart, was there.
The knight drew nigh, upon the hart he came;
she scurried off, a waft of ivory mane.
From the mist appeared a maiden passing fair,
so clothed in samite fine, she did declare:
"Beware! Thy touch upon her back with stain."

    She did descend, and to the knight did tell,
"But lay a hand 'pon mine, and try again."
With fingers locked, they touched the beast divine,
for love alone this Questing Beast could quell.
So answered he: "I ne'er could dream this end;
my heart was tamed when you revealèd thine."