As she went, she sang; and I caught these few words of her song;
and the tones seemed to linger and wind about the trees after she
had disappeared:
Thou goest thine, and I go mine--
Many ways we wend;
Many days, and many ways,
Ending in one end.
Many a wrong, and its curing song;
Many a road, and many an inn;
Room to roam, but only one home
For all the world to win.
And so she vanished. With a sad heart, soothed by humility, and
the knowledge of her peace and gladness, I bethought me what now
I should do. First, I must leave the tower far behind me, lest,
in some evil moment, I might be once more caged within its
horrible walls. But it was ill walking in my heavy armour; and
besides I had now no right to the golden spurs and the
resplendent mail, fitly dulled with long neglect. I might do for
a squire; but I honoured knighthood too highly, to call myself
any longer one of the noble brotherhood. I stripped off all my
armour, piled it under the tree, just where the lady had been
seated, and took my unknown way, eastward through the woods. Of
all my weapons, I carried only a short axe in my hand.
Then first I knew the delight of being lowly; of saying to
myself, "I am what I am, nothing more." "I have failed," I said,
"I have lost myself--would it had been my shadow.
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