Sir Galahad ---

Galahad is one of King Arthur's Knights of the Round Table. He is the son of Lancelot and Elaine of Carbonek and is one of the three achievers of the Holy Grail. Galahad is known as the most noble and pure knight, who remains chaste in order to pursue the Holy Grail. Upon arriving at Camelot, Galahad take the seat of the Siege Perilous, reserved only for the knight who would accomplish the quest for the Holy Grail; all others who sat there would perish. During the quest for the Grail, Galahad, along with Percival and Bors, are the only knights allowed to see the Grail. In Le Morte d'Arthur, Galahad and Percival come across a deserted boat and Percival's sister gives him a sword, a scabbard, and girdle. They then travel to Castle Carbonek where the Grail is kept. Galahad heals the Maimed King (King Pelles) with the Dolorous Spear and sees the Holy Grail in the castle. Galahd, Percival, and Bors then leave for Sarras and aboard the ship they see the Grail again. In Sarras, the Grail appeared to Galahad once again and kneeling down to pray, his soul was carried to heaven.

Galahad's shield and emblem is that of a red cross with a white background. His grandfather was King Pelles (Elaine's father) and is a descendent of Joseph of Arimathea.

Lord Tennyson's poem "Sir Galahad"

My good blade carves the casques of men,
   My tough lance thrusteth sure,
My strength is as the strength of ten,
   Because my heart is pure.
The shattering trumpet shrilleth high,
   The hard brands shiver on the steel,
The splinter'd spear-shafts crack and fly,
   The horse and rider reel:
They reel, they roll in clanging lists,
   And when the tide of combat stands,
Perfume and flowers fall in showers,
   That lightly rain from ladies' hands.

How sweet are looks that ladies bend
   On whom their favours fall!
For them I battle till the end,
   To save from shame and thrall:
But all my heart is drawn above,
   My knees are bow'd in crypt and shrine:
I never felt the kiss of love,
   Nor maiden's hand in mine.
More bounteous aspects on me beam,
   Me mightier transports move and thrill;
So keep I fair thro' faith and prayer
   A virgin heart in work and will.

When down the stormy crescent goes,
   A light before me swims,
Between dark stems the forest glows,
   I hear a noise of hymns:
Then by some secret shrine I ride;
   I hear a voice but none are there;
The stalls are void, the doors are wide,
   The tapers burning fair.
Fair gleams the snowy altar-cloth,
   The silver vessels sparkle clean,
The shrill bell rings, the censer swings,
   And solemn chaunts resound between.

Sometime on lonely mountain-meres
   I find a magic bark;
I leap on board: no helmsman steers:
   I float till all is dark.
A gentle sound, an awful light!
   Three angels bear the holy Grail:
With folded feet, in stoles of white,
   On sleeping wings they sail.
Ah, blessed vision! blood of God!
   My spirit beats her mortal bars,
As down dark tides the glory slides,
   And star-like mingles with the stars.

When on my goodly charger borne
   Thro' dreaming towns I go,
The cock crows ere the Christmas morn,
   The streets are dumb with snow.
The tempest crackles on the leads,
   And, ringing, springs from brand and mail;
But o'er the dark a glory spreads,
   And gilds the driving hail.
I leave the plain, I climb the height;
   No branchy thicket shelter yields;
But blessed forms in whistling storms
   Fly o'er waste fens and windy fields.

A maiden knight--to me is given
   Such hope, I know not fear;
I yearn to breathe the airs of heaven
   That often meet me here.
I muse on joy that will not cease,
   Pure spaces clothed in living beams,
Pure lilies of eternal peace,
   Whose odours haunt my dreams;
And, stricken by an angel's hand,
   This mortal armour that I wear,
This weight and size, this heart and eyes,
   Are touch'd, are turn'd to finest air.

The clouds are broken in the sky,
   And thro' the mountain-walls
A rolling organ-harmony
   Swells up, and shakes and falls.
Then move the trees, the copses nod,
   Wings flutter, voices hover clear:
"O just and faithful knight of God!
   Ride on! the prize is near."
So pass I hostel, hall, and grange;
   By bridge and ford, by park and pale,
All-arm'd I ride, whate'er betide,
   Until I find the holy Grail.

--from The Camelot Project