XI. Chevrefoil 
I am pleased to recount a lay
I’ve heard and also read of the way
Tristram and the queen were brought
down together by love, which ought
to offer pleasure but also can
bring pain and death to woman and man.
Because Tristram loved the queen,
his angry uncle, King Mark, had been
forced to banish him. He went
to Wales where he was born and spent
a whole year there. But then he chose
to risk his life — as many of those
who are in love are moved to do,
when there is no alternative to
perishing of loneliness.
Tristram was in such great distress
that he was not concerned at all
about the danger that in Cornwall,
if he were discovered, he would die.
On stealth and cunning he could rely
as he went through forests where he could hide,
emerging only at eventide
for a little food and shelter, dodging
suspicious eyes in peasants’ lodging.
In one of these, he asked for word
about the king, and they had heard
of a proclamation summoning
barons to Tintagel where the king
at Pentecost would be holding court
and there would be merrymaking and sport.
(Tristram reasoned that there was a fair
to excellent chance the queen would be there.)
He even knew the route that she
would have to take, and therefore he
could see her passing by and not
be seen, himself. He knew a spot
in the woods by the roadside. There he found
a hazel branch that lay on the ground
that he cut it in half and squared, and then
he carved his name upon it. When
the queen saw this (as she’d done before)
she recognized it and even more
important knew what it meant — that he
was hiding behind some handy tree.
The rest of the message was implied:
that he loved her still; that he’d nearly died
apart from her; that he’d been waiting
for hours and days anticipating
a glimpse of the one to whom forever
he was joined; that he could never
imagine life without her. He
had once made a metaphor that she
had liked about the hazel and
the honeysuckle, which can stand
together but, if someone tries
to separate them, each plant dies.
He didn’t always have to spell
out what she understood so well.
As the queen ambled along the road,
she saw the upright stick that showed
the letters of Tristram’s name. She knew
what it meant, for it was clear
that he wanted her to stop near here
to rest for a bit. Obediently
they did what she asked. She summoned to
her side a trusted servant who
could accompany her into the wood.
Faithful Brenguein understood
and together they ventured into the trees
where immediately these
ladies found the man who waited
for her to come with his breath bated.
She told him how he had to proceed
to reconcile with King Mark: he’d
heard the whispers and had had no
choice but to order Tristram to go.
But Yseult had calculated how
Mark might relent enough to allow
Tristram’s return. He promised to do
exactly what she told him to.
She turned to leave but could not move,
as if she were paralyzed by love
and only by an act of will
could she walk away from him in the still
of the afternoon. Both of them wept
in this dream that was not a dream and kept
happening even when the two
were awake after the night was through.
Back in Wales, the joyful lover
had the time to ponder over
what might happen, now that they
could be reunited. He wrote a lay
to express the hope and joy they shared
(ironic now, because they fared
less well that he’d expected). In
English it is “Gotelef.” Its twin
in French is “Chevrefoil,” and you
will find in both mixed joy and rue.