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 A F@1M, 
 
 BY 
 
 €Umtti iuliwcr, f urir f otton. 
 
 tlEVISED 
 
 EDITIOTJ. 
 
 Toronto : 
 
 HUNTER, ROSE & COMPANY. 
 
 1871. 
 

 Entered according to the Act of the Parliament of Canada, in the year one 
 thousand eight hundred and seventy-one, by Edward Bulweb, Lord 
 Lytton, in the office of the Minister of ARriculture. 
 
 HcNTER, Rose & CO. 
 PntNTERS, Bookbinders, ELECxnoTtrEns, Ad 
 
"12 Grosvenor Square, London, 
 
 " December ist, iSyo. 
 "Gentlemen, 
 
 Pnhl"J '°"f""" ''°"' "'""'""« '° y"" *'*> Printers and 
 Pubhshers of an edition of my Poem ^J&s^d^^^ t 
 
 seaiaWfiJBrighUn C>nada_and elsewhere W^^J^df ^ 
 
 " Messrs. Hunter, Rose & Co., " ^'^'^'TCLN^ 
 
 "Toronto." 
 
I 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 ,T was in my earliest youth that the subject of this 
 poem first occurred to me. For the theme, what- 
 ever natural qualifications I may possess have at 
 least been matured by time, and enlarged by a 
 culture more or less kindred to its nature during 
 the years devoted to the completion of it. A 
 new generation has, meanwhile, grown up around me, to 
 whose notice the present edition of the poem is offered, with 
 the most careful revision and correction which I have been 
 able to give to it ; not without the hope of a wider audi- 
 ence among the generations that succeed. Such a hope is 
 natural to every writer who has done his best to ensure 
 the elements of durability to his work ; and if it be often 
 an erroneous, it is never an ignoble one. 
 
 All that I can legitimately ask, in the present day, from 
 the friendlier some amongst the many who are wholly un- 
 acquainted with this work is that, if they look into it at 
 all, they will do so without hostile prepossession ; — judging 
 of it for themselves uninfluenced by the reports of those 
 who would rather condemn without reading than read with- 
 out condemning. 
 
Vlll 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 In deference to the fame of an illustrious contemporary, 
 I may be permitted to observe that when, in my college 
 days, I proposed to my ambition the task of a narrative 
 poem, having King Arthur for its hero, I could not have 
 even guessed that the same subject would occur to a Poet 
 somewhat younger than myself, and then unknown to the 
 Public ; and though, when my work was first printed in 
 18-48, Mr. Tennyson's "Morte d'Arthur" had appeared, I 
 was not aware of any intention on his part to connect it 
 with other poems illustrating selected fables of the legen- 
 dary King. Fortunately for me, th{^ point of view from 
 which the subject had already presented itself to my imagi- 
 nation, and the design and plan I had proposed to myself 
 in the treatment of it, were so remote from the domains of 
 romance to which the genius of Mr. Tennyson has resorted, 
 that I may claim one merit rare in those who have come 
 after him, — I have filled no pitcher from fountains hallowed 
 to himself. 
 
 In constructing from the confused myths that surround 
 ilie image of Arthur, a continuous narrative poem, preserv- 
 ing unity of action, and aiming at something of national 
 t'jiouring and purpose, the detached romances of the Round 
 Table, taken " out of certeyn bookes of Frcnshe and reduced 
 into Englysshe," by Sir Thomas Malory, appeared to me but 
 little availa})le. The unconnected character of these stories 
 is thus accurately described by Southey : — 
 
 " Nothing can be more inartificial in structure than the 
 Romances of the Round Table. Adventure produces ad^ en- 
 
 ! 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 IX 
 
 iporary, ° 
 
 college 
 arrative 
 A have 
 
 a Poet 
 1 to the 
 ntetl in 
 >eared, I 
 )nnect it 
 [le legen- 
 iew from 
 ly imagi- 
 bo myself 
 )mains of 
 
 resorted, 
 ave come 
 
 lallowed 
 
 surround 
 preserv- 
 national 
 Round 
 reduced 
 a me V)ut 
 se stories 
 
 than the 
 ^s adven- 
 
 le 
 
 ture in infinite series, not like a tree whose boughs and 
 branches, bearing a necessary relation and due proportion to 
 each other, combine into one beautiful form, but resembling 
 such plants as the prickly pear, where one joint grows upon 
 another, all equal in size and alike in shape, and the whole 
 making a formless and misshapen mass." 
 
 Preferring to invent for myself an entirely original story, 
 I have taken from Sir Thomas Malory's compilation little 
 more than the general adoption of chivalrous usages and 
 manners, and those agencies from the marvellous which chiv- 
 alrous romance naturally affords — the Fairy, the Genius, the 
 Enchanter; not wholly, indeed, in the literal spirit with which 
 our nursery tales receive those creations of fancy through 
 the medium of French Fabliaux, but in the larger and 
 deeper signification by which in their conceptions of the 
 supernatural our fathers often implied the secrets of Nature. 
 For the Romance from which I borrow is the Romance of 
 the North — a Romance, like the Northern mythology, full 
 of typical meaning and latent import. The gigantic remains 
 of symbol worship are visible amidst the rude fables of the 
 Scandinavians and what little is left to us of the earlier 
 and more ind Venous literature of the Cvmrians, is charac- 
 terized by a mysticism profound with parable. This fond- 
 ness for an interior or double meaning is the most promi- 
 nent attribute of that Romance popularly called The Gothic, 
 the feature most in common Avith all creations that bear the 
 stamp of the Northern fancy ; we trace it in the poems of 
 tlie Anglo-Saxons ; it returns to u«;, in oiu* earliest poems 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 after the Conquest ; it does not originate in the Oriental 
 genius (immemorially addicted to Allegory), but it instinct- 
 ively appropriates all that Saracenic invention can suggest to 
 the more sombre imagination of the K )rth, — it unites the 
 flying Griffin of Arabia to the Serpent of the Edda; the 
 Persian Genius to the Scandinavian Trold, — and where- 
 ever it accepts a marvel, it seeks to insinuate a type. This 
 peculiarity, which distinguishes the spiritual essence of the 
 modern from the sensuous character of ancient poetry, es- 
 pecially the Roman, is visible wherever a tribe allied to the 
 Goth, the Frank, or the Teuton, carries with it the deep 
 mysteries of the Christian faith. Even in sunny Provence 
 it transfuses a subtler and graver moral into the song of 
 the lively troubadour,* — and weaves " The Dance of Death," 
 by the joyous streams, and amidst the glowing orange 
 groves, of Spain. Onwards, this undercurrent of meaning 
 flowed, through the various phases of civilization : — it per- 
 vaded alike the popular Satire and the dramatic Mystery ; 
 — and, preserving its thoughtful calm amidst all the stirring 
 passions that agitated mankind in the age subsequent to the 
 Reformation, not only suffused the luxuriant fancy of the 
 dreamy Spenser, but communicated to the practical intellect 
 of Shakespeare that subtle and recondite wisdom which seems 
 the more inexhaustible the more it is examined, and sug- 
 gests to every new inquirer some new problem in the phil- 
 osophy of Human Life. 
 
 ' Kien n'est plus commun dans la po6sie proven<;ale que I'all^gorie ; soulemont vllo 
 
 est un jeu d'esprit au lieu d'etre utic action Une autre analogpie me parait 
 
 plus spoiitan6e qu'imit6e — la po6sie des troubadours qu'on supoose frivole, a souvent re- 
 trac^e des Hcntimens tjraves ct touchant^,' &c,— Vil jmain, Taolemi dti Moyen Age." 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 XI 
 
 From the characters in the legends of the Round Table, 
 I have but borrowed the names — their contrasted individual- 
 ities are of my own creation ; and even the fable of the 
 guilty loves between Lancelot and Guenever, which I need 
 scarcely say has no warrant in legends genuinely Cymrian, 
 but, — (in common with the other stories of the same char- 
 acter, that drew down on Sir Thomas Malory's compilation 
 the indignant censure of Roger Ascham), — betrays its origin 
 in the literature of the French Courts of Gallantry, would, 
 for various reasons, have been altogether inappropriate to 
 the design of this poem. Enlarging on the hint in the Ro- 
 mance of " Merlin," that there were two Guenevers " very 
 like each other," I have purposely allotted to the respective 
 wives of Lancelot and his lord — 
 
 " One name, indeed, but with a varying sound." 
 
 Proposing to give to the poem a national design, it was ne- 
 cessary that I should contemplate almost exclusively from 
 that point of view the character and action of its hero. 
 Whether, with Mr. Skene, in his able work on the Four 
 Antient Books of Wales, we accept Arthur's Historical ex- 
 istence, apart from his Romantic, in the Dux bellorum of 
 Nennius ; or whether, as best suits the scheme of this poem, 
 we recognize it with Sharon Turner in the later Prince of 
 the Silures, it is only by representing the triumph of Chris- 
 tianity against the Pagan, and by maintaining his native 
 Cymrian soil against the invader, that, as a national hero, 
 A.rthur becomes entitled to the epic glory of success. 
 
Xll 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 This, therefore, is the end to his trials ordained by Mer- 
 lin, who is here represented less as the wizard of popular 
 legend, than as the seer gifted with miraculous powers for 
 the service and ultimate victory of Christianity ; and the 
 end thus to be attained is accepted by Arthur as the defi- 
 nite limit of his ambition. 
 
 In the description of the trials which constitute my hero's 
 probation, the invention of the Etrurian valley arose out of 
 my desire to combine with the execution of a plan funda- 
 mental to the whole poem, some incidental indication of the 
 effect produced by the discovery of Classic arts and letters 
 on the Gothic world in its progress towards modern civili- 
 zation. More especially, however, is this portion of the work 
 intended to illustrate the influence of that holiday region 
 apart from the work-day world, in which the Romantic Age 
 retains for awhile both nations and individuals who are 
 destined to derive from romance an exalted conception of 
 life's practical duties, as well as a deepened devotion to 
 their fulfilment. The sorrow which awaits the Adventurer 
 on quitting the land never to be regained, opens his eyes 
 to the latent secrets of existence, and widens for him the 
 scope of the present, not only by a survey of the past, but 
 by glimpses of the future. Neither men nor iiations, how- 
 ever, can adequately fit themselves for great destinies unless 
 to practical energies they add spiritual and intellectual free- 
 dom : nor can any beneficent conquest be achieved over the 
 brute forces of nature without moral subjugation of the su- 
 perstitious terrors and false desires that assail the mind. It 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 xiu 
 
 is then only that the guardian and guiding instinct of a 
 noble purpose assumes definite form, and is clothed with 
 human loveliness, as Duty becomes Beauty in the success* 
 ful completion of a life truly heroic. 
 
 Such is the general outline of a design filled up in this 
 poem by means of incidents which, whilst anxious to avoid 
 too obvious an intrusion of any typical intention, I have so 
 arranged as to identify the ideal story of Arthur, as far as 
 I found to be practical, not only with the development of 
 the heroic character in the individual, but with the compo- 
 sition and structural growth of the Nation that claims in 
 Arthur its hero and its tj^e. With this view a prominent 
 position has been accorded to the Saxons, who are almost 
 lost sight of in the French legends of Arthur, where they 
 appear travestied into Saracens, among whom the worship 
 of Mahomet pre- eminently flourished — a notable proof not 
 only of the comparatively modern origin, but the completely 
 foreign character of the fables which Sir Thomas Malory 
 "reduced into Englysshe." Special significance is also as» 
 signed in this poem to the nationality of Arthur's bride, in 
 adherence to those principles of Epic Fable which, doubt- 
 less, induced Virgil to identify the national hero of the Ro* 
 mans with the conquest of their Latin progenitors, and to 
 symbolise the ultimate fusion of races by the nuptials of 
 ^neas and Lavinia. 
 
 For the same reason, various indications have been admit'^ 
 ted in my narrative of a distinctly Scandinavian nationality 
 commingling with that of the other races now united Under 
 the name of Britons. 
 
XIV 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 In assigning to Arthur his place in history, I have neces- 
 sarily given to his realm and people something of the Cym- 
 rian characteristics or colourings, which are excluded from 
 the French romances, though, among the corrections in the 
 present edition, many Welch proper names and expressions 
 to be found in former ones are paraphrased or omitted as 
 difficult to reconcile to other than Welch ears. 
 
 As regards my employment of Humour in aid of romance, 
 I need discuss neither the example of Ariosto nor the spe- 
 cial grounds of my belief that the serious purpose of this 
 poem is best developed by an occasionally humouristic treat- 
 ment of it. I may, however, briefly observe, that in taking 
 into the esoteric design of my narrative the aspiration of all 
 nobler life, individual or national, towards the harmonious 
 development of the powers for good at its command, it 
 would be scarcely possible to reject the presence of Humour 
 as the playfellow of Genius and the assistant of Philosophy. 
 To those who maintain that the statelier dignity of poetic 
 narrative is lowered by such commixture, I can only say, 
 that my theories of criticism, apart from my interest in this 
 poem, entirely differ from theirs, and since Tragedy is of 
 graver import than even the Epopee, I do not see how, ac- 
 cording to their canons, they can tolerate the presence of 
 humour in the loftiest tragedies of Shakespeare. 
 
 To explain in prose what he has uttered in song is a 
 task which cannot be agreeable to any one, and it is the 
 wise fashion of authors now-a-days to delegate such tasks to 
 friendly reviewers, instructed and secured beforehand. Of 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 XV 
 
 friends so invaluable, engaged in the periodical press, it is 
 not my good fortune to boast ; and though I have not the 
 slightest intention to provoke a controversial comparison of 
 the different points of view from which the Artliur of Brit- 
 ish Fable may be regarded as a national hero, some such 
 explanation as is here given of tliat aspect in whicli I have 
 taught myself to regard him, seemed to me a courtesy due to 
 the reader, and that explanation could scarcely be given with- 
 out some corollary remarks on the general scheme of the poem. 
 After all, an Author cannot justify his work ; it is for the 
 work to justify the author. Whatever worth I have put 
 into this work of mine, comprising, in condensed form, so 
 many of the influences whicli a life divided between litera- 
 ture and action, the study of books and the commerce of 
 mankind, — brings to bear upon the two elements of song, 
 Imagination and Thought, — that degree of worth must ulti- 
 mately be found in it ; and its merits and its faults be 
 gauged by different standards of criticism from those which 
 experience teaches me to anticipate now. I shall be, indeed, 
 beyond the reach of pleasure or of pain in a judgment thus 
 tardily pronounced. But he who appeals to Time must not 
 be impatient of the test that he invites. 
 
 London, 
 
 October, 1870. 
 
I 
 
 AKCIUMENT. 
 
 Opcniiifj -Kiiif,' Artluir keeps holiday in tlic Vale of Carducl—Pa«tinie8— Arthur's 
 sentiments on life, love, and mortal change — The strange apparition — Tlie King 
 follows the phantom into the forest--Ilis return— The discomfiture of his knightw— 
 The Court disperses— Night— The restless King ascends his hattlements— His solil- 
 oquy— lie is attracted hy the light from the Wizard's tower— Merlin described— The 
 King's narrative— The Enchanter's Invocation— Morning— The tilt-yard— Sports, 
 knightly and national— Merlin's address to Arthur— The Three Labours enj'^!;,^.'— 
 Arthur de|*artu from C'arduel— His al)scnoe explained by Merlin to the Council- 
 Ucscription of Arthur's three friends, Caradoc, G^ivaine, and Lancelot — The e8)iecia 
 love between Arthur and the lust— Lfvncclot encounters Arthur — The parting of th<i 
 friends. 
 
 ! 
 
F 
 
 A 
 
 ING yii^THUR 
 
 fiooK iHne. 
 
 IJR land's first legends, love and knightly deeds, 
 And wondrous Merlin, and his wandering King, 
 
 The triple labour, and the glorious meeds 
 Won from the world of Fable-land, I sing. 
 
 Go forth, Song, amidst the banks of old. 
 And glide translucent o'er their sands of gold. 
 
 II. 
 
 Now is the month when, after sparkling showers, 
 Her starry wreaths the virgin jasmine weaves ; 
 
 Now lure the bee wild thyme and sunny hours ; 
 And light wings rustle thro' the glinting leaves ; 
 
 Music in every bough ; on mead and lawn 
 
 May lifts her fragrant alcars to the dawn. 
 
KINO ARTHUR 
 
 [book I. 
 
 III. 
 
 Now joyous lives with every moment start 
 In air, in wave, on earth ; — above, below ; 
 
 And o'er her new-born children. Nature's heart 
 Heaves with the gladness motliers only know. 
 
 Fair time, yet floating before haunted eyes, 
 
 King Arthur reigns, and song is in the skies. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Hard by a stream, amidst a pleasant vale, 
 Arthur, then young, held careless holiday ; — 
 
 The stream was blithe with many a silken sail, 
 The vale with many a proud pavilion gay ; 
 
 While Cymri's dragon, from the Koman's hold,* 
 
 Spread with calm wing o'er Carduel's domes of gold. 
 
 v. 
 
 Dark to the right, thick forests mantled o'er 
 A gradual mountain sloping to the plain ; 
 
 Whose gloom but lent to light a charm the more, 
 As pleasure pleases most when neighbouring pain ; 
 
 And all our human joys most sweet and holy, 
 
 Sport in the shadows cast from melancholy. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Below that mount, along the glossy sward 
 
 Were gentle groups, discoursing gentle things ; — 
 
 Or listening idly where the skilful bard 
 
 Woke the sweet tempest of melodious strings ; 
 
 Or whispering love — I ween, less idle they, 
 
 For love's the honey in the flowers of May. 
 
 i 
 
 See Note 1 in Appendix. 
 
BOOK 1.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Some plied in lusty race the glist'ning oar ; 
 
 Some, noiseless, snared the silver-scaled prey ; 
 Some wreathed the dance along the level shore; 
 
 And each was happy in his chosen way. 
 Not ))y one shaft is Care, the hydra, killed, 
 So Mirth, determined, had his quiver filled. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Bright as the Morn, when all the pomp of cloud 
 
 Reflects its lustre in a rosy ring, 
 The worthy centre of a glittering crowd 
 
 Of youth and beauty, shone the British King. 
 Above that group, o'er-arched from tree to tree, 
 Thick garlands iiung their odorous canopy ; 
 
 IX. 
 
 And in the midst of that delicious shade 
 
 Up sprang a sparkling fountain, silver-voiced, 
 
 And the bee murmured, and the breezes played ; 
 In their gay youth, the youth of May rejoiced — 
 
 And they in hers — as thro' that leafy hall 
 
 Chimed the heart's laughter with the fountain's fall. 
 
 X. 
 
 Propped on his easy arm, the King reclined, 
 And glancing gaily round the ring, quoth he — 
 
 "'Man,' say our sages, 'hath a fickle mind. 
 And pleasures pall, if long enjoyed they be.' 
 
 But I, methinks, like this soft summer-day, 
 
 'Mid blooms and sweets could dream myself away ; 
 
r 
 
 i! 
 
 I ! 
 
 I 1. 
 
 G 
 
 KING ARTIIUB. 
 
 [book I. 
 
 XI. 
 
 " Wliat can the years, witli all their stores unguest, 
 Give us more precious than one happy liour ? 
 
 Time speeds us on, when we ourselves would rest ; 
 For who would hasten life, while in its flower, 
 
 A moment nearer to its autumn leaf ; 
 
 Or tire of joy to go in search of grief ? 
 
 xir. 
 
 " If Love be changeful as the old declare, 
 Not unto Love but unto Time the blame ! " 
 
 •' Not unto Love ! " exclaimed each lover there ; 
 " Out upon Time ! " murmured each blooming dame ! 
 
 But thought had dimmed the smile in Arthur's eye. 
 
 And his light speech was rounded by a sigh, — 
 
 XIII. 
 
 " Seize we the Hour ; — Time is not yet to blame," 
 Qi'oth glad Gawaine — when in that si -ken ring 
 
 Sudden stood forth (none marking whince it came), 
 A strange, and Aveird, and phantom-seeming thing ; 
 
 It stood, dim-outlined in a sable shroud, 
 
 And shapeless, as in noon-day hangs a cloud. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Hushed was each lip, and every cheek was pale ; 
 
 The stoutest heart beat tremulous and high : 
 " Arise," it muttered from the spectral veil, 
 
 " I call thee. King !" Then burst the wrathful cry, 
 Feet found the earth, and ready hands the sword, 
 And angry knighthood bristled round its lord. 
 
nooK I.] 
 
 KING ARTHUB. 
 
 XV. 
 
 But Arthur rose, and, waving back the throng. 
 Fronted the Phantom with a dauntless brow : 
 
 The Shape receding, indistinct, along 
 
 The unbended herbage, noiseless, dark, and slow, 
 
 Wliere the dense forest, night at noonday i.iade. 
 
 Glided, — as from the dial glides the shade. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Gone ; — but an ice-bound horror seemed to cling 
 To air ; the revellers stood transfixed to stone ; 
 
 While from amidst them, palely passed the King, 
 Dragged by a will more royal than his own : 
 
 Onwards he went ; the invisible controul 
 
 Compelled him, as a dream compels the soul. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 They saw, and sought to stay him, but in vain ; 
 
 They saw, and sought to speak, but voice was dumb : 
 So Death, some warrior from his armed train 
 
 Plucks forth defenceless when his hour is come. 
 He gains the wood ; their sight the shadows bar, 
 And darkness wraps him as the cloud, a star. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Abruptly, as it came, the charm was past 
 Tliat bound the circle : as from heavy sleep 
 
 Starts the hushed war- camp at the trumpet's blast, 
 Fierce into life the voiceless revellers leap ; 
 
 Swift to the wood the glittering tumult springs. 
 
 And thro' the vale the Cymrian war-cry rings. 
 
i'i 
 
 8 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book I. 
 
 : I 
 
 XTX. 
 
 From stream, from tent, from pastime near and far, 
 
 All press confus'dly to the signal cry — 
 So from the Rock of Birds* the shout of war 
 
 Sends countless wings in clamour thro' the sky — 
 The cause a word, the track a sign affords, 
 And all the forest gleams with starry swords. 
 
 XX. 
 
 As on some stag the hunters single, gaze. 
 Gathering together, and from far, the herd, 
 
 So round the margin of the woodland-maze 
 Pale beauty circles, trembling if a bird 
 
 Flutter a bough, or if, without a sound. 
 
 Some leaf fall breezeless, eddying to the ground. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 An hour or more had tow'rds the western seas 
 
 Speeded the golden chariot of the day. 
 When a wjiite plume came glancing through the trees, 
 
 The serried branches groaningly gave way, 
 And, with a bound, delivered from the wood, 
 Safe, in the sun-light, royal Arthur stood. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Who shall express the joy that aspect woke ! 
 
 Some laughed aloud, and clapped their srowy hands ; 
 Some ran, some knelt, some turned aside and broke 
 
 Into glad tears : — But all unheeding stands 
 The King ; and shivers in the glowing light ; 
 And his breast heaves as panting from a fight. 
 
 * Tlie Rock of Birds— Craio y Dertn— so called from the numlier of birds (chiefly 
 those of prey) that breed on it. 
 
BOOK I.] 
 
 KING ARTHUtt, 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Yet still in those pale features, seen more near, 
 
 Speak the stern will, the soul to valour true ; 
 It shames man not to feel man's human fear, 
 
 It shames man, only if the fear subdue ; 
 And, masking trouble with a noble guile, 
 Soon the proud heart restores the kingly smile. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 But no account could anxious love obtain. 
 Nor curious wonder, of the portents seen ; 
 
 " Bootless his search," he lightly said, " and vain 
 As haply had the uncourteous summons been. 
 
 Some mocking sport, perchance, of merry May." 
 
 He ceased ; and shuddering, turned his looks away. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Now, back, alas, less comely than they went, 
 Drop, one by one, the seekers from the chase. 
 
 With mangled plumes and mantles deadly rent 
 By many a bramble in that thorny place ; 
 
 And sorely chafing in such humbled guise 
 
 To run the gauntlet of their ladies' eyes. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 But shame and anger vanished when they saw 
 Him whose warm smile a life had well repaid, 
 
 For noble hearts a noble chief can draw 
 Into that circle where all self doth fade ; 
 
 Lost in the sea a hundred waters roll, 
 
 And subject natures merge in one great soul. 
 
 birds (chiefly 
 
m 
 
 10 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book I. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 Now once again quick question, brief reply, 
 
 " What saw, what heard the King ?" " Nay, gentles, what 
 Saw and heard ye ]"— "The forest and the sky. 
 
 The rustling branches," — " And the phantom not ? 
 No more," quoth Arthur, " of a thriftless chase. 
 For cheer so stinted brief may be the grace. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 " But see, the sun descendeth down the west. 
 
 And graver cares to Carduel now recall : 
 Gawaine, my steed ; — Sweet ladies, gentle rest. 
 
 And dreams of happy morrows to you all." 
 Now stirs the movement on the busy plain ; 
 To horse — to boat ; and homeward wind the train. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 O'er hill, down stream, the pageant fades away. 
 More and more faint the plash of dipping oar ; 
 
 Voices, and music, and the steed's shrill neigh. 
 From the grey twilight dying more and more ; 
 
 Till o'er the stream and valley, wide and far. 
 
 Reign the sad silence and the solemn star. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Save where, like some true poet's lonely soul. 
 
 Careless who hears, sings on the unheeded fountain ; 
 
 Save where the waning cloud-wracks slowly roll 
 Their ghostly march along the forest mountain, 
 
 By the last breeze of eve discattering driven, 
 
 Till, as night grows, nor breeze nor cloud in heaven. 
 
BOOK I.] 
 
 KING AnTIIUR. 
 
 11 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 Sleep, the sole angel left of all below, 
 
 O'er the lulled city sheds tli' ambrosial wreaths 
 
 Wet with the dews of Eden ; bliss and woe 
 
 Are equals, and the humblest slave that breathes 
 
 Under the shelter of those healing wings, 
 
 Reigns, half his life, in realms too fair for Kings. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 Too fair those realms for Arthur ; long he lay 
 An exiled suppliant at the gate of dreams. 
 
 And vexed, and wild, and fitful as a ray 
 
 Quivering upon the surge of stormy streams ; 
 
 Thought broke in glimmering trouble o'er his breast, 
 
 And found no billow where its beam could rest. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 He rose, and round him drew his ermined gown, 
 Passed from his chamber, wound the turret stair. 
 
 And from his castle's steep embattled crown 
 Bared his hot forehead to the freshening air. 
 
 How Silence, like a god's tranquillity, 
 
 Fill'd with delighted peace the conscious sky ! 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 Broad, luminous, serene, the sovereign moon 
 Shone o'er the roofs below, the lands afar — 
 
 The vale so joyous with the mirth at noon ; 
 The pastures virgin of the lust of war ■ 
 
 Fair waters sparkling as they seaward roll, 
 
 As to Time's ocean speeds a happy soul. 
 
/I ''S 
 
 12 
 
 "I 
 
 I !' 
 
 KING ARTHUH. 
 
 [book I. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 "And must these pass from me and mine away ?" 
 Murmured the monarch ; " Must the mountain home 
 
 Of those, whose fathers, in a ruder day, 
 
 With naked bosoms rushed on shrinking Rome, 
 
 Lose this last refuge from the ruthless wave. 
 
 And what was Britain, be the Saxon's slave ? 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 " Why hymn our harps high music in our hall 1 
 Doomed is the tree whose fruit was noble deeds — 
 
 Where the axe spared the thunder-bolt must fall, 
 And the wind scatter as it list, the seeds ! 
 
 But oft our fame dates from our latest breath 
 
 And is made deathless by a glorious death !" 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 He ceased, and looked, with a defying eye. 
 
 Where the dark forest clothed the mount with awe ; 
 
 Gazed, and then proudly turned : — when lo, hard by 
 From a lone turret in his keep, he saw. 
 
 Through the horn casement, a clear steadfast light, 
 
 Lending meek tribute to the orbs of night. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 And far, and far, I ween, that little ray 
 
 Sent its pure streamlet through the world of air : 
 
 The wanderer oft, benighted on his way. 
 Saw it, and paused in superstitious prayer. 
 
 For well he knew the beacon and the tower. 
 
 And the great Master of the spells of power. 
 
 t 
 
BOOK I.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR, 
 
 13 
 
 XXXTX. 
 
 There He, who yet in Fable's deathless page 
 
 Keigns, compassed with the ring of pleasing dread, 
 
 Which the true wizard, whether bard or sage. 
 Draws round him living, and commands when dead- 
 
 The solemn Merlin — from the midnight won 
 
 The hosts that bowed to starry Solomon. 
 
 XL. 
 
 Not fear that light on Arthur's breast bestowed, 
 As with a father's smile it met his gaze ; 
 
 It cheered, it soothed, it warmed him while it glowed ; 
 Brought back the memory of young hopeful days, 
 
 When the child stood by the great prophet's knee, 
 
 And drank high thoughts to strengthen years to be. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 As with a tender chiding, the calm light 
 Seemed to reproach him for secreted care, 
 
 Seemed to ask back the old familiar right 
 Of lore to counsel, or of love to share ; 
 
 The prompt heart answers to the voiceless call, 
 
 And the step quickens o'er the winding wall. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 Before that tower precipitously sink 
 
 The walls, down-shelving to the castle base ; 
 
 A slender draw-bridge, swung from brink to brink. 
 Alone gives fearful access to the place ; 
 
 Now from that tower, the chains the drawbridge raise. 
 
 And leave the gulf all pathless to the gaze. 
 
14 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book I. 
 
 i : 
 
 iM 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 But close where Arthur stands, a warder's horn, 
 Fixed in the stone, to those who dare to win 
 
 The enchanter's cell, supplies the note to warn 
 The mighty weaver of dread webs within. 
 
 Loud sounds the horn, the chain descending clangs, 
 
 And o'er the abyss the dizzy pathway hangs ; 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 Mutely the door slides sullen in the stone, 
 
 And closes back, the gloomy threshold i;rossed ; 
 
 There sat the prophet on a Druid throne, 
 Where sat Duw-Iou,* ere his reign was lost j 
 
 The wand uplifted in his still right hand. 
 
 And the weird volume on its brazen stand. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 Vast was the front which, o'er as vast a breast, 
 Hung, as if heavy with the load sublime 
 
 Of the piled hoards which Thought, the heavenly guest, 
 Had wrung from Nature, or despoiled from Time ; 
 
 And the unutterable calmness shows 
 
 The toil's great victory by the soul's repose. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 Ev'n as the Tyrian views his argosies, 
 
 Moored in the port (the gold of Ophir won). 
 
 And heeds no more the billow and the breeze. 
 And the clouds wandering o'er the wintry sun, 
 
 So calmly Wisdom eyes, — its voyage o'er, — 
 
 The traversed ocean from the beetling shore. 
 
 * Duw-Iou (the Taranus of Lucan), the most solemn aud august, though not the 
 most popular of the Druid divinities, answered to the classic Jupiter. By the Crom- 
 lechs of Duvs^Iou is usually found a huge stone, the pedestal or chair of the idol, — in 
 those more corrupt times when idols were admitted into the sublime creed of the 
 Druids. 
 
BOOK I.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR, 
 
 15 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 A hundred years pressed o'er that awful head, 
 As o'er an Alp, their diadem of snow ; 
 
 And, as an Alp, a hundred years had fled, 
 And left as firm the giant form below ; 
 
 So sate, ere yet discrowned, in Ida's grove. 
 
 The grey-haired father of Pelasgian Jove. 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 Before that jower, sublimer than his own, 
 With downcast looks, the King inclined the knee ; 
 
 The enchanter smiled, and, bending from his throne. 
 Drew to his breast his pupil tenderly ; 
 
 And pressed his lips on that young forehead fair. 
 
 And with large hand smoothed back the golden hair. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 And, looking in those frank and azure eyes, 
 
 "What," said the prophet, "doth mine Arthur seek 
 
 From the grey wisdom which the young despise ? 
 The young, perchance, are right ! — Fair infant, speak !" 
 
 Thrice sigh'd the monarch, and at length began : 
 
 " Can wisdom ward the storms of fate from man % 
 
 L. 
 
 " What spell can thrust Affliction from the gate ? 
 
 What tree is sacred from the lightning-flame ]" 
 " Son," said the seer, **the laurel ! — even Fate 
 
 Scathes not one leaf upon the brows of Fame, 
 Say on." — The King smiled sternly, and obeyed — 
 TracJ. we the steps which tracked the warning shade. 
 

 16 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book I. 
 
 LI. 
 
 " On to the wood, and to its inmost dell 
 
 Will-less I went," the monarch thus pursued, 
 
 " Before me still, but darkly visible, 
 The phantom glided through the solitude : 
 
 At length it paused, — a sunless pool was near, 
 
 As ebon black, and yet as crystal clear. 
 
 LII. 
 
 " * Look, King, below,' whispered the shadowy one : 
 What seemed a hand signed beckoning to the wave, 
 
 I looked below, and never realms undone 
 
 Showed war more awful than the mirror gave ; 
 
 There rushed the steed, there glanced on spear the spear, 
 
 And spectre-squadrons closed in fell car*?er. 
 
 LIII. 
 
 " I saw — I saw my dragon standard there, — 
 There thronged the E.iton, there the Saxon wheeled; 
 
 I saw it vanish from that nether air — 
 
 I saw it trampled on that phantom field ; — 
 
 On pouiocl the Saxon hosts — we fled — we fled ! 
 
 And the Pale Horse* rose ghastly o'er the dead. 
 
 LIV. 
 
 "Lo, the wan shadow of a giant hand 
 Passed o'er the pool — the demon war was gone ; 
 
 City on city stretched, and land on land ; 
 
 The space, thus seen in glamour, lengthening on, 
 
 Till in the fraudful mirror was contained 
 
 All this wide isle o'er which my father reigned. 
 
 * The White Horse, the standard of the Saxons. 
 
 ii 
 
 ll 
 
BOOK I.] 
 
 KINO ARTHUR. 
 
 17 
 
 ixon wheeled ; 
 
 LV. 
 
 " There, by the lord of streams, a palace rose ; 
 
 On bloody floors there was a throne of state ; 
 And in the land there dwelt one race — our foes ; 
 
 And on the single throne the Saxon sate ; 
 And Cymri's crown was on his knitted brow, 
 And where stands Carduel, went the labourer's plough. 
 
 LVI. 
 
 " And east and west, and north and south I turned, 
 And called my people as a king should call ; 
 
 Pale 'mid the hollow mountains I discerned 
 
 Rude scattered stragglers from the common thrall \ 
 
 Kingless and armyless, by crag and cave, — 
 
 Ghosts on the margin of their country's grave. 
 
 LVII. 
 
 " And even there, amidst the barren steeps, 
 I heard the tramp, I saw the Saxon steel ; 
 
 Aloft, red murder like a deluge sweeps. 
 Nor rock can save, nor cavern can conceal ; 
 
 Mount upon mount, the waves devouring rise, 
 
 Till in one mist of carnage closed mine eyes ! 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 (( 
 
 Then spoke the hell-born shadow by my side — 
 *Thou who dost ask no nobler course for life, 
 Than amid summer sweets and blooms to glide, 
 
 Deeming no duty worth the cost of strife, 
 Arthur Pendragon, to the Saxon's sway 
 Thy kingdom and thy crown shall pass away,' 
 C 
 
18 
 
 Kim ARTHUR. 
 
 t 
 
 [Book i. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 " * And who art thou, that Heaven's august decrees 
 Usurpest thus V I cried, and lo tlie space 
 
 Was void ! — Ami<l8t the horror of the trees, 
 And by the pool, which mirrored back the face 
 
 Of Dark in crystal darkness — there I 8too<l, 
 
 And the sole spectre was the solitude I 
 
 LX. 
 
 **I knew no more — strong as a mighty dream 
 The trouble seized the soul, and sealed the sense ; 
 
 I knew no more, till in the blessed beam, 
 Life sprang to loving Nature for defence ; 
 
 Vale, flower, and fountain laughed in jocund spring, 
 
 And pride came back, — again I was a king ! 
 
 LXI. 
 
 " But, ev'n the while with airy sport of tongue, 
 As, with light wing the skylark from its nest 
 
 Lures the invading step, I led the throng 
 
 From the dark brood of terror in my breast ; 
 
 Still frowned the vision on my haunted eye, 
 
 And blood seemed reddening in the azure sky. 
 
 LXII. 
 
 ** Thou, the Almighty Lord of earth and heaven, 
 Without whose will not ev'n a sparrow falls, 
 
 If to my sight the fearful truth was given, 
 If thy dread hand hath graven on these walls 
 
 The Assyrian's doom, and to the stranger's sway 
 
 My kingdom and my crown shall pass away,— 
 
 1 
 
 fli 
 
BOOK I.} 
 
 KING AnTHUn. 
 
 le 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 "Oraut nn', iit least, thi^ not unworthy praytT ; — 
 Liu:, wliil*' my lif»! out; man from cliuinH can save; 
 
 Wiiile rocks ono rampart, or wliilo caves one lair, 
 Yield to tli(^ dosing ,striig.;l(' (»f the l)rave ! 
 
 Mine the last desperate but avenging hand, 
 
 If rel't the sceptre, not resigned the brand !" 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 " Close to my clasp !" the prophet cried, " Impart 
 To these iced veins the glow of youth once more ; 
 
 Tlu^ healthful throb of one great human heart 
 Baffles more fiends than all a magian's lore. 
 
 My boy ! — " young arms embracing checkt the rest. 
 
 And youth and age stood mingled breast to breast. 
 
 LXV. 
 
 " Ho !" cried the mighty master, while he broke 
 From the embrace, and round, from vault to floor, 
 
 Mysterious echoes answered as he spoke. 
 And flames twined snake-like round the wand he bore, 
 
 And freezing winds swept wheeling through the cell, 
 
 As from the wings of hosts invisible : 
 
 LXV I. 
 
 " Ho ! ye spiritual ministers of all 
 
 The airy space below the Sapphire Throne, 
 
 To the swift axle of this earthly ball — 
 Yea, to the deep, where evermore alone 
 
 Hell's king with memory of lost glory dwells, 
 
 And from that memory weaves his hell of hells ; — 
 
It 
 
 !■ 
 
 20 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book i» 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 " Ho ! ye who fill the crevices of air, 
 
 And speed the whirlwind round the reeling bark — 
 Or dart destroying in the forked glare, 
 
 Or rise — the bloodless People of the Dark — 
 In the pale shape of Dreams, when to the bed 
 Of Murder glide the simulated dead; — 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 " Hither ye myriad hosts ! — O'er tower and dome, 
 Await the mission, and attend the word ; 
 
 Whether to dive in caves beneath the gnome, 
 Or soar to mountain peaks beyond the bird ; 
 
 So that the secret and the boon ye wrest 
 
 From Time's cold grasp, or Fate's reluctant breast 1'* 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 Mute stood the king — when lo, the dragon-keep 
 Shook to its racked foundations, as when all 
 
 Corycia's caverns and the Delphic steep 
 Shook to the foot-tread of invading Gaul ; 
 
 Or, as his path when flaming -^tna frees, 
 
 Shakes some proud city on Sicilian seas : 
 
 LXX. 
 
 Eeeled heaving from his feet the dizzy floor; 
 
 Swam dreamlike on his gaze the fading cell ; 
 As falls the seaman, when the waves dash o'er 
 
 The plank that glideth from his grasp — he fell. 
 To eyes ungifted, deadly were the least 
 Of those last mysteries, Nature yields her priest. 
 
BOOK I.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 21 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 Mom, the joy-bringer, from her sparkling urn 
 Scatters o'er herb and flower the orient dew ; 
 
 The larks to heaven, and souls to thought return — 
 Life, in each source, leaps rushing forth anew, 
 
 Fills every grain in Nature's boundless plan. 
 
 And wakes some fate in each desire of Man : 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 ;ant breast I'* 
 
 In each desire, each thought, each fear, each hope, 
 Each scheme, each wish, each fancy, and each end, 
 
 That morn calls forth, say, who can span the scope ? 
 Who track the arrow which the soul may send *? 
 
 One morning woke a youth in Macedon, 
 
 And longed for fame — and half the world was won. 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 Fair shines the sun on stately Carduel; 
 
 The falcon, hoodwinked, basks upon the wall ; 
 The tilt-yard echoes with the clarion's swell. 
 
 And lusty youth comes thronging to the call ; 
 And martial sports, the daily wont, begin. 
 The page must practise if the knight would win. 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 Some, spur the palfrey at the distant ring; 
 
 Some, with blunt lance, in mimic tourney charge ; 
 Here, whirrs the pebble from the poised sling. 
 
 Or flies the arrow rounding to the targe ; 
 AVhile Age and Fame sigh, smiling, to behold 
 The young leaves budding to replace the old. 
 
:i 
 
 i 
 
 22 
 
 KING ARTHUR, 
 
 [book I. 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 Nor yet forgot amid the special sports 
 
 Of polished Chivalry, the primal ten 
 Athletic contests, known in elder courts 
 
 Ere knighthood rose from the great Father-men. 
 Beyond the tilt-yard spread the larger space, 
 For the strong wrestle and the breathless race ; 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 Here some, the huge dull weights up-heaving throw ; 
 
 Some ply the staff, and some the sword and shield; 
 And some that falchion with its thunder-blow 
 
 Which Heus,* the Guardian, taught the Celt to wield ; 
 Heus, who first guided o'er * the Hazy Main ' 
 Our Titant sires from orient Defrobane. 
 
 LXXVIl. 
 
 Life thus astir, and sport upon the wing, 
 Why yet doth Arthur dream day's prime away ? 
 
 Still in charmed slumber lies the quiet King ; 
 On his own couch the merry sunbeams play ; 
 
 Gleam o'er the arms hung trophied from the wall ; 
 
 And Cymri's antique crown surmounting all. 
 
 * Heus is the same deity as Esus, or Hesus, mentioned in Lucan, the Mars of the 
 Celts. According to the Welch triads. Heus (or Hu— Hu Gadarn : i. e. the mighty 
 Guardian, or Inspector) brought the people of Cymry first into this isle, from the 
 summer country called Defrobani, (in the Tauric Chersonese) over the Hazy Sea (tlie 
 German Ocean). Davies, in his Celtic Researches, observes that some commentator, 
 at least as old as the twelfth century, repeatedly explains the situation of Defrobani as 
 "that 0)1 which Constantinople now stands." " This comment," adds Davies, " would 
 not have beei> made without some authority ; it belongs to an age which possessed manj' 
 documents relating to the history of the Britons whidi are now no longer extant." 
 
 t " Our Titan sires?" — according to certain mythologists, the Celts, or Cimmerians, 
 were the Titans, On the other hand, some of the early chroniclers make the giants, or 
 Titans, the aborigines of the Imd, — whom the Britons very properly exterminate. 
 
[book I. 
 
 BOOK I.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 23 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 Father-men. 
 space, 
 jss race : 
 
 ^ing throw ; 
 
 rd ard shield; 
 
 )r-blow 
 
 e Celt to wield ; 
 
 tin' 
 
 me away ? 
 
 ^mg; 
 
 play; 
 the wall ; 
 all. 
 
 3an, the Mars of tho 
 
 |rn : i. e. the mighty 
 
 this isle, from tho 
 
 the Hazy Sea (the 
 
 J some commentator, 
 
 Ition of DefrobaJii as 
 
 |dds Davles, " would 
 
 lich possessed manj' 
 
 longer extant." 
 
 kits, or Cimmerians, 
 jmake the giants, or 
 exterminate. 
 
 Slowly he woke; life came back with a sigh, 
 That herald, or that henchman, to the gate 
 
 Of all our knowledge ; — and his startled eye 
 Fell where beside his couch the prophet sate ; 
 
 Calm as befits the seer whose power controuls 
 
 Hosts that obey but the serenest souls. 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 " Prince," said the prophet, " with this morn awake 
 From pomp, from pleasure, \,o rough tasks and brave ; 
 
 From yonder wall the arms of knighthood take. 
 But leave the crown which knightly arms may save; 
 
 O'er mount and vale, go, pilgrim, forth alone, 
 
 And win the gifts which shall defend a throne. 
 
 (( 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 So speak the Fates — till in the her.vens the sun 
 Rounds his revolving course, F^ing, return 
 To man's first, noblest birthright, toil: — so won 
 
 In Grecian fable, to the ambrosial urn 
 Of joyous Kebe, and the Olympian grove, 
 The labouring son Alcmena bore to Jove. 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 " Only by perils faced and pains endured, 
 Are youth's rude forces disciplined and skilled; 
 
 Only thro' patience fame can be secured. 
 And a grand life be a grand dream fulfilled. 
 
 But learn the gifts thy year of proof nr'ot gain, 
 
 Fail one, fail all, and deem thy labours vain, 
 
 
24 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book I. 
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 '•There grows a herb — it only flowers on graves — 
 By which, when tasted, mortal sight can mark 
 
 Spiritual forms, and, on her own still waves, 
 The sybil steerer of the phantom bark; 
 
 Where her hand beckons thee, undaunted go. 
 
 Thy loftiest prize lurks in her world below. 
 
 LXXXIII. 
 
 " There, gleam the temples of religions dead ; 
 
 There, grows a forest from a single stem ; 
 There, shining pure in airs that glow blood-red, 
 
 The falchion, welded from a single gem. 
 Sheathed in a rock dusked by the vulture's wings, 
 Behold, and win from the Three Giant Kings. 
 
 Lxxxrv. 
 
 " Seek next the silver shield in which the sleep 
 Of infant Thor was cradled — now the care 
 
 Of the fierce Dwarf whose home is on the deep, 
 Where drifting ice rocks clash in lifeless air. 
 
 And War's pale Sisters smile to see the shock 
 
 Stir the still curtains round the couch of Lokj 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 " Crowning thy toils — before the Iron Gate 
 Which opes its entrance at the faintest breath, 
 
 But hath no egress; where a Power like Fate 
 
 Rules, in name milder, all things that know Death. 
 
 Thy childlike guide through aught that rests behold, 
 
 With looks that light the dark and locks of gold. 
 
 5^ 
 
 I 
 
 i^l It 
 
BOOK I.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 25 
 
 LXXXVI. 
 
 " The sword, the shield, and that young playmate-guide, 
 Win ; and the fiend, predicting wrath, shall lie ; 
 
 Be danger braved, and be delight defied. 
 Front death with dauntless, but with solemn eye ; 
 
 And tho' dark wings hang o'er these threatened halls, 
 
 Tho* war's red surge break thundering round thy walls. 
 
 LXXXVII. 
 
 " Tho*, in the rear of time these prophet eyes 
 See to thy sons, thy Cymrians, many a woe ; 
 
 Yet from thy loins a race of kings shall rise. 
 Whose throne shall shadow all the seas that flow ; 
 
 Whose empire, broader than the Caesar won. 
 
 Shall clasp a realm where never sets the sun. 
 
 LXXXVIII. 
 
 "And thou, thyself, shalt live from age to age, 
 A thought of beauty and a type of fame ; — 
 
 Not the faint memory of some mouldering page. 
 But by the hearths of men a household name : 
 
 Theme to all song, and marvel to all youth — 
 
 Beloved as Fable, yet believed as Truth. 
 
 LXXXIX. 
 
 " But if thou fail — thrice woe ! " Up sprang the King : 
 " Let the woe fall on feeble kings who fail 
 
 Their country's need ! When falcons spread the wing 
 They face the sun, not tremble at the gale : 
 
 A name to conquer and a land to save ! 
 
 With such rewards, never yet failed the brave." 
 
i 
 
 I 
 
 k! 
 
 26 
 
 KING ARTHUR, 
 
 [book I. 
 
 xo. 
 
 Ere yet the shadows from the castle's base 
 
 Showed lapsing noon — in Carduel's council hall, 
 
 To the high princes of the dragon race, 
 The mighty prophet, whom the awe of all 
 
 As fate's unerring oracle adored, — 
 
 Told the self exile of the parted lord ; 
 
 xci. 
 
 For his throne's safety and his country's weal 
 On high emprize to distant regions bound; 
 
 The cause must wisdom for success conceal; 
 For each sage counsel is, as fate, profound : 
 
 And none may trace the travail in the seed 
 
 Till the blade burst to glory in the deed. 
 
 XCI. 
 
 Few were the orders, as wise orders are, 
 For the upholding of the chiefless throne ; 
 
 To strengthen peace and yet prepare for war; 
 Lest the fierce Saxon (Arthur's absence known), 
 
 Loose Death's pale charger from the broken rein, 
 
 To its grim pastures on the bloody plain. 
 
 XCIII. 
 
 Leave we the startled Princes in the hall ; 
 
 Leave we the wondering babblers in the mart ; 
 The grief, the guess, the hope, the doubt, and all 
 
 That stir a nation to its inmost heart. 
 When strides some monster Chance, unseen till then, 
 Into the circles of unthinking men. 
 
BOOK I.] 
 
 KJNG ARTHUR. 
 
 27 
 
 XCIV. 
 
 Where the screened portal from the embattled town, 
 Opes midway on the hill, the lonely King, 
 
 Forth issuing, guides his barded charger down 
 The steep descent. Amidst the pomp of spring 
 
 Lapses the lucid river ; jocund May 
 
 Waits in the vale to strew with flowers his way. 
 
 xcv. 
 
 Of brightest steel — but not embossed with gold 
 As when in tourneys rode the royal knight — 
 
 His arms flash sunshine back ; the azure fold 
 Of the broad mantle, like a wave of light. 
 
 Floats tremulous, and leaves the sword arm free. 
 
 Fair was that darling of all Poesy. 
 
 xcvi. 
 
 Thro' the raised vizor beamed the fearless eye, 
 
 The limpid mirror of a stately soul ; 
 Bright with young hope, but grave with purpose high 
 
 Sweet to encourage, steadfast to control; 
 An eye from which subjected hosts might draw. 
 As from a double fountain, love and awe. 
 
 XCVII. 
 
 The careless curl, that from the helm escaped, 
 Gleamed in the sunlight, lending gold to gold. 
 
 The features, clear as by a chisel shaped. 
 Made manhood godlike as a Greek's of old ; 
 
 Save that, in hardier lineaments, looked forth 
 
 The soul that nerves the war-child of the North. 
 
28 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 il 
 
 m 
 
 [book I. 
 
 XOVIII. 
 
 O'er the light limb, and o'er the shoulders broad, 
 The steel flowed pliant as a silken vest ; 
 
 Strength was so supple that like grace it showed, 
 And force was only by its ease confest; 
 
 Ev'n as the storms in gentlest waters sleep. 
 
 And in the ripple flows the mighty deep. 
 
 xcix. 
 
 Now wound his path beside the woods that hang 
 O'er the green pleasaunce of the sunlit plain, 
 
 When a young footstep from the forest sprang, 
 And a light hand was on the charger's rein ; 
 
 Surprised, the adventurer halts, — but pleased surveys 
 
 The friendly face that smiles upon his gaze. 
 
 c. 
 
 Of all the flowers of knighthood in his train 
 Three he loved best ; young Caradoc the mild. 
 
 Whose soul was filled with song; and frank Gawaine, 
 Whom Mirth for ever, like a fairy child, 
 
 Locked from the cares of life ; but neither grew 
 
 Close to his heart, like Lancelot the true. 
 
 CI. 
 
 Gawaine when gay, and Caradoc when grave. 
 Pleased : but young Lancelot, or grave or gay ; 
 
 As yet life's sea had rolled not with a wave 
 
 To rend the plank from those twin hearts away; 
 
 At childhood's gate instinctive love began 
 
 And warmed with every sun that led to man. 
 
 iBWNT 'i^.i ryyr' 
 
BOOK I.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 29 
 
 CII. 
 
 The same sports lured them, the same labours strung, 
 The same song thrilled them with the same delight; 
 
 Where in the aisle their maiden arms had hung. 
 The same moon lit them thro' the watchful night ; 
 
 The same day bound their knighthood to maintain 
 
 Life from reproach, and honour from a stain. 
 
 cm. 
 
 And if the friendship scarce in each the same. 
 The soul has rivals where the heart has not ; 
 
 So Lancelot loved his Arthur more than fame, 
 And Arthur more than life his Lancelot. 
 
 Lost here Rank's mean distinctions ! knightly troth, 
 
 Frankyouth, high thoughts, crowned Nature's kings in both.* 
 
 CIV. 
 
 " Whither wends Arthur 1" "Whence comes Lancelot ?" 
 "From yonder forest, sought at dawn of day." 
 
 " Why from the forest %" " Prince and brother, what, 
 When the bird, startled, flutters from the spray, 
 
 Makes the leaves quiver 1 What disturbs j rill 
 
 If but a zephyr floateth from the hill ? 
 
 cv. 
 
 "And ask'st thou why thy brother'^ heart is stirred 
 By every tremor that can vex thine own"? 
 
 What in that forest had'st thou seen or heard ? 
 What was that shadow o'er thy sunshine thrown ? 
 
 Thy lips were silent, — ^be the secret thine; 
 
 But half the trouble it concealed was mine. 
 
 * Lancelot was, indeed, the son of a king, but a dethtoned and a tributary one. 
 The popular history of Ins infancy will be told in a subsequent book. 
 
30 
 
 KING AltTIimt. 
 
 [book I. 
 
 CVI. 
 
 "Did danger meet thee in tliat dismal lair, 
 'T was mine to face it as tliy heartliad done. 
 
 'T was mine — " " brother," cried the King, " beware, 
 The fiend has snares it shami^s not man to slum ; — 
 
 Ah, woe to eyes on whose recoiling sight 
 
 Opes the dark world beyond t ic veil of light ! 
 
 CVII. 
 
 " last ! — till returns to his beloved May 
 The lord of light whom amber beacons hail,* 
 
 The horn's blithe rally and the hound's deep bay, 
 May waken Music from her own sweet vale t 
 
 On spell-bound ears the Harper's song may fall, 
 
 Love deck the bower and mirth illume the hall — 
 
 CVIII. 
 
 "But though, thou, my Lancelot shalt mourn, 
 Chilled by my distant shadow on thy soul ; 
 
 Not blithe to thee shall be the hunter's horn, 
 Nor bright the liquid sunshine of the bowl ; 
 
 Turn where thou may'st, a something missed shall be 
 
 This knows my heart — so had it mourned for thee. 
 
 * Those heaps of stone found throughout Britain (Crugiu, or Carneu), were sacred 
 to the sun in the Druid worship, and served as beacons in his honour on May eve. May 
 was his consecrated month. The rocking stones which mark these sanctuaries were 
 called amber-stones. 
 
 t Cwm-Penllafar, the Vale of Melody— so called (as Mr. Pennant suggests) from the 
 music of the hounds when in full cry over the neighbouring Rock of the Ilunter. 
 
 * m 
 
nooK 1.] 
 
 KINO AltTIWll 
 
 SI 
 
 CIX. 
 
 " Alone I go ; — submit ; since thus the Fates 
 And the great Propliet of our race ordain ;' 
 
 So shall we drive invasions from our gates, 
 
 Guard life from shame, and Cymri from the chain ; 
 
 No more than this my soul to thine may tell — 
 
 Forgive, — Saints shield thee ! — now thy hand — farewell !" 
 
 ex. 
 
 " Farewell ! Can danger be more strong than death — 
 Loose the soul's link, the grave-surviving vow ? 
 
 Wilt thou find fragrance ev'n in glory's wreath. 
 If valor weave it for thy single brow ? 
 
 No — not farewell ! What claim more strong than brother 
 
 Canst thou allow?" — "My Country is my Mother;"— 
 
 CXI. 
 
 Answered the King, and at the solemn words 
 
 Eebuked stood Friendship, and its voice was stilled 
 
 As when some mighty bard with sudden chords 
 Strikes down the passion he before had thrilled, 
 
 Making grief awe ; — so rushed that sentence o'er 
 
 The soul it mastered ; — Lancelot urged no more. 
 
 CXII. 
 
 But loos'ning from the hand it clasped, his own, 
 He waved farewell, and turned his face away ; 
 
 His sorrow only by his silence shown — 
 Thus, when from earth glides summer's golden day, 
 
 Music forsakes the boughs, and winds the stream ; 
 
 And life, in deepening quiet, mourns the beam* 
 
I 
 
 
 il 
 
Booh the $eoon5. 
 

 4 ' . ^ 
 
 ARGUMENT 
 
 Introductory reflections — Arthur's absence— The deliberations of the three friends- 
 Merlin seeks them— ITie trial of the enchanted I rest— Merlin's soliloquy by the foun- 
 tain — The return of r.hc knights from the forest— Merlin's selection of the one permitted 
 to join the King — The narrative returns to Arthur- -The strange gnide allotted to him — 
 Ho crosses the sea, and arrives at the court of the Vandal — Ludovick, the Vandal King 
 described— His wily questions —Arthur's answers— The Vandal seeks his friend Astntio 
 — A hur leaves the court — Conference between Astutio and Ludovick — Astutio's pro- 
 found statesmanship and subtle schemes— the Ambassador from Mercia — His address to 
 i^udovic— The Saxons pursue Arthur— Meanwhile the Cymrian King arrive!; at the sea- 
 shore—Description of tliO caves that intercept his progress— He tunis hiland— The Idol- 
 hrine— The wolf and the i^riest. 
 
 
Book Cuio. 
 
 I. 
 
 WIFT on the dial shifts the restless shade, 
 
 With each new ray by each new moment won,- 
 So, when we vanish, does our memory fade 
 From hearts reflecting but a present sun ; 
 The tree of life renews each fallen leaf. 
 And its own comfort lurks in every grief. 
 
 II. 
 
 Doth absence part — " the absent will return," 
 
 Whispers bland hope ; — but is that absence death ? 
 
 Doth joy seem buried in the lo\er's urn. 
 And sorrow ended only with thy breath 1 
 
 Let but a year, perchance a month, be fled, 
 
 And joy survives — 'tis sorrow that is dead. 
 
 III. 
 
 In street and mart still plies the busy craft ; 
 
 Still Beauty trims for stealthj- steps the bower ; 
 By lips as gay the Hirlas born* is quaft ; 
 
 To the dark bourne slill flies as fast the hour. 
 As when the many drew delight from one ; 
 And Arthur's smile was as to flowers the sun. 
 
 The Hirlas, or drinking-horn, (made of the horn of a buflfalo, enriched either with 
 
 old or silver), was not a vessel peculiar to the Welch ; the Scandinavian nations also 
 
 ied it. The Hirlas Song of Owen, Prince of Powys, is familiar to all lovers of Welch 
 
 |terature ; the best translation of which I am aware is to be found in the notes to 
 
 Dutbc-^'s Madoc. 
 

 
 36 
 
 KING AETIIUK 
 
 [book II. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Thrice blest, O King, that on thy royal head 
 
 Fall the nighu dews; that the broad -spreading beech 
 
 Curtains thy sleep ; that in the paths of dread. 
 Lonely, thou wanderest, — so thy steps may reach 
 
 The only shore that grows the amaranth tree, 
 
 Whose wreaths keep fresh in mortal memory. 
 
 V, 
 
 All is forgot save Poetry; or whether 
 
 Haunting Time's river from the vocal reeds. 
 
 Or linked not less in human souls together 
 With ends which make the poetry of deeds ; 
 
 For either poetry alike can shine — 
 
 From Hector's valour as from Homer's line. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Yet let me wrong ye not, ye faithful three, 
 
 Gawaine, and Caradoc, and Lancelot ; 
 Gawaine's light lip had lost its laughing glee. 
 
 And gentle Caradoc had half forgot 
 That famou/. epic which his muse had hit on. 
 Of Trojan Biut — from whom the name of Briton 
 
 VII. 
 
 And thou, calm Lancelot ; but there I hold ; 
 
 The calm have griefs which grief alone can guess ; 
 And so we leave whate'er he felt untold ; 
 
 Light steps profane the heart's deep loneliness. 
 In the world's story Love yet fills the page, 
 But Friendship's date closed with the Hero age. 
 
[book II. 
 
 BOOK II.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 37 
 
 ,1 head 
 
 l-spreading beech 
 of dread. 
 s may reach 
 ih tree, 
 emory. 
 
 I reeds, 
 ther 
 F ceeds ; 
 
 line. 
 
 iree, 
 
 glee, 
 
 lit on, 
 of Briton 
 
 old; 
 
 e can guess ; 
 
 neliness. 
 age, 
 sro age. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Much, their sole comfort, much conversed the three 
 Upon their absent Arthur; what the cause 
 
 Of his self-exile, and its ends, could be ; 
 Much did they ponder, hesitate, and pause 
 
 In high debate, if loyal love might still 
 
 Pursue his wanderings, though against his will. 
 
 IX. 
 
 But first the awe which kings command, restrained ; 
 
 And next the ignorance of the path and goal ; 
 So, thus for weeks they communed and remained ; 
 
 Till o'er the woods a mellower verdure stole ; 
 The bell-flower clothed the river-banks; the moon 
 Stood in the breathless firmanent of June ; 
 
 X. 
 
 When, as one twilight — near the forest-mount 
 They sate, and heard the vesper-bell afar 
 
 Swing from the dim Cathedral, and the fount 
 Hjrmn low its own sweet music to the star 
 
 Lone in the west — upon the sward was thrown 
 
 A sudden shadow stiller than their own. 
 
 XI 
 
 They turned, beheld their Cymri's mighty seer. 
 Majestic Merlin, and with reverence rose ; 
 
 " Knights," said the soothsayer, smiling, "be of cheer 
 If yet, alone thro' toil and danger, goes 
 
 Your King, one comrade of his faithful three 
 
 Fate now permits — the choice with Fate must be. 
 
1 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 t I 
 
 38 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book II. 
 
 XII. 
 
 "Enter the forest — each his several way ; 
 
 KeA/UiTi as dies in air the vesper chime ; 
 The fiend the forest-populace obey 
 
 Hath not o'er mortals empire in the time 
 When holy sounds the wings of Heaven invite ; 
 And prayer hangs charm-like on the wheels of Night. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 (< 
 
 What seen, what heard, mark mindful, and relate ; 
 
 Here will I tarry till your steps return." 
 Ne'er leapt the captive from the prison grate 
 
 With livelier gladness to the smiles of morn, 
 Than sprang those rivals to the forest-gloom, 
 And its dark arms closed round them like a tomb. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Before the fount, with thought-o'ershadowed brow. 
 The prophet stood, and bent a wistful eye 
 
 Along its starlit shimmer ; — " Ev'n as now," 
 He murmured, " didst thou lift thyself on high, 
 
 O symbol of my soul, and make thy course 
 
 One upward struggle to thy mountain source — 
 
 XV. 
 
 "When first, a musing boy, I stood beside 
 
 Thy sparkling showers, and asked my restless heart 
 
 What secrets Nature to the herd denied 
 But might to earnest hierophant impart ; 
 
 Then, in the boundless, around and o'er. 
 
 Thought whispered — ' Rise, seeker, and explore : 
 
[book II. 
 
 BOOK II.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 39 
 
 XVI. 
 
 
 me 
 
 invite ; 
 
 els of Night. 
 
 and relate ; 
 1." 
 rate 
 morn, 
 •om, 
 e a tomb. 
 
 ed brow, 
 eye 
 
 ^" 
 
 on high, 
 e 
 rce — 
 
 sstless heart 
 
 (( ( 
 
 Can every leaf a teeming world contain? 
 
 Can every globule gird a countless race, 
 Yet one death-slumber, in its dreamless reign, 
 
 Clasp all the illumed magnificence of space 1 
 Life crowd a grain, from air's vast realms effaced, 
 The leaf a world — the firmanent a waste V 
 
 XVII. 
 
 " And while Thought whispered, from thy shining spring 
 Murmured the glorious answer — 'Soul of Man, 
 
 Let the fount teach thee, and its struggle bring 
 Truth to thy yearnings ! — whither I began 
 
 Thither I tend ; my law is to aspire : 
 
 Spirit thy source, be spirit thy desire.' 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 explore : 
 
 " And I have made the life of spirit mine ; 
 
 And, on the margin of my mortal grave. 
 My soul, already in an air divine 
 
 Ev'n in its terrors, — starlit, seeks to cleave 
 Up to the height on which its source must be — 
 And falls again, in earthward showers, like thee. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 " System on system climbing, sphere on sphere, 
 
 Upward for ever, ever, evermore. 
 Can all eternity not bring more near 1 
 
 Is it in vain that I have sought to soar % 
 Vain as the Has been, is the long To be ? 
 Type of my soul, fountain, answer me !" 
 
■ 
 
 'ih 
 
 :,'t : 
 
 40 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book It. 
 
 XX. 
 
 And while he spoke, behold the night's soft flowers, 
 Scentless at day, awoke, and bloomed, and breathed ; 
 
 Fed by the falling of the fountain's showers, 
 Round its green marge the grateful garland wreathed ; 
 
 The fount might fail its source on high to gain — 
 
 But ask the blossom if it soared in vain ! 
 
 XXI. 
 
 The prophet marked, and, on his mighty brow, 
 
 Thought grew resigned ; serene, though mournful still. 
 
 Now ceased the vesper, and the branches now 
 Stirred on the margin of the forest hill — 
 
 And Gawaine came into the starlit space — 
 
 Slow was his step, and sullen was his face. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 " What saw, what heard my son ?" — " The sky and wood. 
 The crisping leaves by winds of winter spared." 
 
 A livelier footstep gained the fount — and stood, 
 Blithe in the starlight, Caradoc the bard ; 
 
 The prophet smiled on that fair face— :-akin 
 
 Poet and prophet — " Child of Song, begin." 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 " I saw a glowworm light his fairy lamp. 
 Close where a little torrent forced its way 
 
 Through broad-leaved water-sedged, and alder damp ; 
 Above the glowworm, from some lower spray 
 
 Of the near mountain-ash, the silver song 
 
 Of night's sweet chorister came clear and strong ; 
 
 u. 
 
BOOK II.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR, 
 
 41 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 " No thrilling note of melancholy wail ; 
 
 Ne'er pour'd the thrush more musical delight 
 Through noon -day laurels, than that nightingale 
 
 In the lone forest to the ear of Night — 
 Ev'n a^ the light web by Arachn^ spun, 
 From bough to bough suspended in the sun. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 "Ensnares the heedless insect, — so, methought 
 Midway in air my soul arrested hung 
 
 In the melodious meshes ; never aught 
 To mortal lute was so divinely sung ! 
 
 Surely, O prophet, these the sound and sign, 
 
 Which make the lot, the search determines, mine." 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 " self-deceit of man !" the soothsayer sighed, 
 ** The worm but lent its funeral torch the ray ; 
 
 The night-bird's joy but hailed the fatal guide. 
 In the bright glimmer, to its thoughtless prey. 
 
 And thou, bold-eyed one — in the forest, what 
 
 Met thy firm footsep T — Out spoke Lancelot — 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 " I pierced the forest till a pool I reached. 
 Ne'er marked before — a dark yet lucid wave; 
 
 High from a blasted oak the night-owl screeched. 
 An otter crept from out its water-cave, 
 
 The owl grev/ silent when it heard my tread — 
 
 The otter niaiked my shadow, and it fled, 
 
42 
 
 KING ARTHUR 
 
 [book II. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 <'This all I saw, and all I hoard."— " Rejoice !" 
 The Enchanter cried, " for thee the omens nmile ; 
 
 On thee propitious fate hath fixed the choice ; 
 And thou the comrade in the glorious toil, 
 
 In death the gentle bard but music heard ; 
 
 But death g?ve way when life's firm soldier stirred. 
 
 ! :i 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 " Forth ride, a dauntless champion, with t/ie ni'^rn ; 
 
 But let the nigh;' the champion nerve with prayer ; 
 Higher and higher from the hfion borne, 
 
 Wheels thy brave falcon to the heavenliest air, 
 Poises his wings, far towering o'er the foe, 
 And hangs aloft, before he swoops below; 
 
 XXX. 
 
 " Man, let the falcon teach thee ! — Now, from land 
 To land thy guide, receive this crystal ring ; 
 
 See, in the crystal moves a fairy hand, 
 
 Still, where it moveth, moves the wandering King — 
 
 Or east, or north, or south, or west, where'er 
 
 Points the sure hand, thine onward path be there !" 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 " Thine hour comes soon, young Gawaine ! to the port 
 The light heart boundeth o'er the stormiest wave ; 
 
 Aad thou, fair favourite in Gwyn-ab-Nudd's''^ court, 
 Whom fairies realms in every fancy gave ; 
 
 Foir not from glory exiled long to bo. 
 
 What toil to others. Nature brings to thee" 
 
 * Gwyn-ab-Nudd, the king of the fairies. He is, also, sometimes less pleasingly de- 
 lienated, as the king of the infernal regions ; the Welch Pluto — much the same a.s, in 
 the chivalrlc romance writers, Proseri>ine is sometimen made tlie <iuecn of the fairies. 
 
nooK II.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 43 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 Thus with kind word, well chosen, unto each 
 Spoke the benign enchanter ; and the twain. 
 
 Less favoured, heart and comfort from his speech 
 Hopeful conceived ; the prophet up the plain, 
 
 Gathering weird simples, passed — to Carduel the^. 
 
 And song escapes to Arthur's lonely way. 
 
 J ) 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 On tow'rds the ocean-shore (for thus the seer 
 Enjoined) — the royal knight, dj^p musing, rode; 
 
 Winding green margins, till more what and near 
 Unto the deep the exulting river flowed. 
 
 Here too a guide, when reached the mightier wave. 
 
 The heedful promise of the prophet gave. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 Where the sea flashes on the argent sands, 
 Soars from a lonelj'^ rock a snow-white dove ; 
 
 Nor bird more beauteous to immortal lands 
 Bore Psyche rescued side by side with Love. 
 
 Ev'n as some thought which, pure of earthly taint, 
 
 S")rings 
 
 a. O 
 
 from the chaste heart of a vircrin saint. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 It hovers in the heaven, and from its wings 
 Shakes the clear dewdrops of unsuUying seas 
 
 Then circling gently in sloM-measured rings, 
 Nearer and nearer to its goal it flees, 
 
 And drooping, fearless, on that noble breast, 
 
 Murmuring low joy, it coos itself to rest. 
 
44 
 
 KING ARTIIUR. 
 
 [book II. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 The grateful King, with many a soothing word, 
 And bland caress, the guileless trust repaid ; 
 
 When, gently sliding from his hand, the bird 
 Went fluttering where the hollow headlands made 
 
 A boat's small harbour ; Arthur from the chain 
 
 Released the raft, it shot along the main. 
 
 Ill 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 Now in that boat, beneath the eyes of heaven. 
 Floated the three, the steed, the bird, the man ; 
 
 To favouring winds the little sad was given ; 
 The shore faih^d gradual, dwindling to a span ; 
 
 The steed bent wistful o'er the watery realm ; 
 
 And the white dove perched tranciiiil at the helm. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 Haply by fisherman, its owner, left. 
 Within the boat were rude provisions stored ; 
 
 The yellow harvest from the wild bee reft, 
 
 Bread, roots, dried fish ; the luxuries of a board 
 
 Health spreads for toil ; while skins and flasks of reed 
 
 Yield these the water, those the strengthening mead. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 Five days, five nights, still onward, onward o'er 
 Light-swelling waves, bounded the bark its way ; 
 
 At last the sun set reddening on a shore ; 
 Walls on the cliff", and war-ships in the bay; 
 
 While from bright towers, o'erlooking sea and plain, 
 
 The Leopard-banners told the Vandal's reign. 
 
BOOK II.] 
 
 KING AUTllUn. 
 
 45 
 
 XL. 
 
 Amid those shifting royalties, the North 
 
 Poured from its teeming breast, in tumult driven, 
 
 Now to, now fro, as thunder-clouds sent forth 
 
 To darken, burst,— and, bursting, clear the heaven ; 
 
 Ere yet the Nomad nations found repose, 
 
 And order dawned as Charlemain arose; 
 
 XLI. 
 
 Amidst that ferment of fierce races, won 
 
 To yonder shores a wandering Vandal horde. 
 
 Whose chief exchanged his war-tent for a throne. 
 And shaped a sceptre from a conqueror's sword ; 
 
 His sons, repelled by rude intestine broil, 
 
 Sought that vvorst wilderness — the Stranger's soil. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 A distant kinsman, Ludovic his name, 
 
 Reigned in their stead, a king of sage repute ; 
 
 His youth had wasted some rich seeds on fame ; 
 His age, grown wiser, only planted — fruit. 
 
 War stormed the state, and civil discord rent. 
 
 He shunned the tempest till its wrath was spent. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 Safe in serener lands he passed his prime ; 
 
 But mused not vainly on the strife afar : 
 Returned, he watched — the luisbandman of time — 
 
 The second harvest of rebellious war; 
 Cajoled the Edelings* fixed the fickle Gmt, 
 And to the Leiih promised equal law : 
 
 * The EUKLiNas were the nobles of the Teutonic races; the Gow or Gau, the district 
 composed of the union of clans (Mapcua), which had its own independent administra- 
 tion, and chose its parliament of delegates (called Graven); and the LiTi (whence the 
 modern German word, Lbutk), v.'cre the subject population. 
 
46 
 
 KING AjrrituR. 
 
 [hook II. 
 
 XL!V. 
 
 Tho moment camo, disorder split the realm ; 
 
 Too stern the ruler, or too fee])ly stern ; 
 Tho supple kinsman slided to the helm, 
 
 And trimmed tho rudder with a dexterous turn; 
 A turn so dexterous, that it served to fling 
 Both over board — the people and the king. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 Tlie captain's post repaid tho pilot's task, 
 
 He seized the ship as he had cleared the prow ; 
 
 Drop wo tho metaphor as he tlie innsk : 
 
 And, while his gaping Vandals wondered how, 
 
 Behold tho patriot to tho despot grown, 
 
 Filched from the fight, and juggled to the throne ! 
 
 XL VI. 
 
 And bland in words was wily Ludovick ! 
 
 Much did he promise, nought bid he fulfil ; 
 The strickster Fortune loves tho hands that trick. 
 
 And smiled approving on her conjuror's skill I 
 The promised freedom vanished in a tax. 
 And bays, turned briars, scourged bewildered backs. 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 Soon is the landing of the stranger knight 
 Known at the court ; and graciously the king 
 
 Gives to his guest the hospitable rite ; 
 Heralds the tromp, and harpers wake the string ; 
 
 Rich robes of miniver the mail repla e, 
 
 And the bright banquet sparkles on the dais. 
 
 !'W"1^ 
 
[hook II. 
 
 BOOK II.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 47 
 
 s turn; 
 
 prow ; 
 how, 
 hrone ! 
 
 XLVIIl. 
 
 Where on the wall the cloth, gold-woven, glowed. 
 Beside his chair of state, the Vandal lord 
 
 Made room for that fair stranger, as he strode, 
 With a king'a footstep, to the kingly hoard. 
 
 In rohes so nobly worn, the wise old man 
 
 Saw some great soul, which cunning whispered * scan.* 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 A portly presence had the realm-deceiver ; 
 
 An eye urbane, a people-catching smile, 
 A brow, of webs the everlasting weaver, 
 
 Where jovial frankness masked the serious guile ; 
 Each word, well aimed, he feathered with a jest. 
 And, unsuspected, shot into the breast. 
 
 L. 
 
 trick, 
 :ill: 
 
 backs. 
 
 Gaily he welcomed Arthur to the feast. 
 
 And pressed the goblet, which unties the tongue ; 
 
 As the bowl circled so his speech increast. 
 And chose such flatteries as seduce the young; 
 
 Seeming in each kind question more to blend 
 
 The fondling father with the anxious friend. 
 
 tug 
 
 siring ; 
 
 LI. 
 
 If frank the prince, esteem him not the less ; 
 
 The soul of knighthood loves the truth of man ; 
 The boons he sought 'twas needful to suppress, 
 
 Not mask the scoker; so the prince began — 
 "Arthur my name, from Mel Ynys'" I come, 
 And the steep homes of Cymri's Christendom. 
 
 "^ Mcl Ynys, the Isle of Honey (sometimes Vel Ynys, with a more disputed signifl- 
 cation), one of the old Welch names for England. 
 
i 
 
 I 
 
 li 
 
 , !■•{ 
 
 I If 
 
 48 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book II. 
 
 LII. 
 
 "Five days ago, in Carduel's halls a king, 
 A pilgrim knight, now under foreign skies; 
 
 I seek such fame ss gallant deeds can bring, 
 And take from danger what delight denies ; 
 
 Lore from experience, thought from toil to gain, 
 
 And learn as man how best as king to reign." 
 
 LIII. 
 
 The Vandal smiled, and praised the high design; 
 
 Then, careless, questioned of the Cymrian land : 
 * Was earth propitious to the com and vine 1 
 
 Was the sun genial ? — were the breezes bland ? 
 Did gold and gem t^<^, mountain mines conceal?* 
 " Our soil bears manhood, and our mountains steel," 
 
 LJV. 
 
 Answered the Briton ; " and where these are found, 
 All plains yield harvests, and all mines yield gold." 
 
 Next asked the Vandal, 'What might be the bound 
 Of Cymri's realm, and what its strongest hold V 
 
 " Its bound where might without a wrong can gain ; 
 
 Its hold a people that abhors the chain !" 
 
 LV. 
 
 The Vandal mused, and thought the answers shrewd, 
 
 But little suited to the listeners by; 
 So turned the subject, nor again renewed 
 
 Sharp questions blunted by such bold reply. 
 Now ceased the banquet ; to a chamber spread, 
 With fragrant heath, his guest the Vandal led. 
 
 Mii,^ 
 
[book II. 
 
 BOOK II.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 49 
 
 es J 
 
 es ; 
 gain, 
 
 iesign ; 
 n land: 
 
 bland 1 
 iccaU' 
 ins steel," 
 
 ire found, 
 yield gold." 
 he bound 
 It hold V 
 can gain; 
 
 rs shrewd, 
 
 ply 
 
 |read, 
 led. 
 
 LVI. 
 
 With his own hand unclasped the mantle's fold, 
 And took his leave in blessings without number; 
 
 Bade every angel shelter from the cold, 
 
 And every fiaint watch sleepless o'er the slumber ; 
 
 Then his own ch.amber sought, and racked his breast 
 
 To find some use to which to put the guest. 
 
 LVII. 
 
 Three days did Arthur sojourn in that court. 
 And much he marveled how that warlike race 
 
 Bowed to a chief, whom never knightly sport. 
 The gallant tourney, or the glowing chaco 
 
 Allured ; and least those glory-lighted eyes 
 Which make Death lovely in a warrior's eyes. 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 Yet, midst his marvel, much the Cymrian sees 
 For king to imitate and sage to praise ; 
 
 Splendour and thrift in nicely poised degrees. 
 
 Caution that guards, and promptness that dismays. 
 
 The mild demeanour that excludes not awe. 
 
 And patient purpose steadfast as a law. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 On his part, Arthur in such estimation 
 
 Did the host hold, that he proposed to take 
 
 A father's charge of his forsaken nation. 
 
 ' He loved not meddling, but for Arthur's sake, 
 
 Would leave his own, his guest's affairs to mind.' 
 
 An offer Arthur thankfully declined. 
 E 
 
50 
 
 KING ARTHUR 
 
 [book II. 
 
 I \ 
 
 LX. 
 
 Much grieved the Vandal * that he just had given 
 His last unwedded daughter to a Frank, 
 
 But still he had a wifeless son, thank heaven ! 
 Not yet provisioned as beseemed his rank. 
 
 And one of Arthur's sisters — ' Uther's son 
 
 Smiled, and replied — "Sir king, I have but one, 
 
 LXI. 
 
 ■(( 
 
 Borne by my mother to her former lord ; 
 
 Not young." — "Alack! youth cannot last like riches." 
 " Not fair." — " Then youth is less to be deplored." 
 
 "A witch."* — "All women till they're wed are witches! 
 Wived to my son, the with will soon be steady !" 
 " Wived to your son ? — she is a wife already !" 
 
 LXII. 
 
 baseless dreams of man ! The king stood mute ! 
 
 That son, of all his house the favourite flower, 
 IIoAV had he sought to force it into fruit. 
 
 And graft the slip upon a lusty dower ! 
 And this sole sister of a king so rich, 
 A wife already ! — Saints consume the witch ! 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 With b.ow deject, the mournful Vandal took 
 Occasion prompt to leave his royal guest, 
 
 Ar.d sought a friend who served him, as a book 
 Read in our illness, in our health dismist ; 
 
 For seldom did the Vandal condescend 
 
 To that poor drudge which monarchs call a friend ! 
 
 '* The witch MouKOE, or Mokoana, (historically Anna), was Arthur's sister. 
 
 I' i; 
 
BOOK II.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 51 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 And yet Astutio was a n\an of worth 
 
 Before the brain had reasoned out the heart ; 
 
 But now he learned to look upon the earth 
 As peddling hucksters look upon the mart ; 
 
 Took souls for wares, and conscience for a till ; 
 
 And damned his fame to serve his master's will. 
 
 LXV. 
 
 Much lore he had in men, and states, and things, 
 And kept his memory mapped in prim precision. 
 
 With histories, laws, and pedigrees of kings. 
 
 And moral saws, which ran through each division, 
 
 All neatly colour'd with appropriate hue — 
 
 The histories black, the morals heavenly blue. 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 But state-craft, mainly, was his pride and boast; 
 
 " The golden medium" was his guiding star, 
 Which means "move on until you're uppermost, 
 
 And then things can't be better than they are !" 
 Brief, in two rules he summed the ends of man — 
 " Keep all you have, and try for all you can ?" 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 While these conferred, fair Arthur wistfully 
 Looked from the lattice of his stately room ; 
 
 The rainbow spanned the ocean of the sky ; 
 Sunshine and cloud, the glory and the gloom, 
 
 Like grief and joy from light's same given ; — 
 
 Tears weave with smiles to form the bridge to heaven 
 
: 
 I ] 
 
 : ■ 
 
 hi 
 I 
 
 
 62 
 
 KING ARTHUR 
 
 [book II. 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 As such, perchance, his thought, the snow-white dove, 
 Which at the threshold of the Vandal's towers 
 
 Had left his side, came circling from above. 
 
 Athwart the rainbow and the sparkling showers, 
 
 Flew though the open lattice, paused, and sprung 
 
 Where on the wall the abandoned armour hung ; 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 Hovered above the lance, the mail, the crest. 
 Then back to Arthur, and with querulous cries. 
 
 Pecked at the clasp that bound the flowing vest. 
 Chiding his dalliance from the armed emprize, 
 
 So Arthur deemed ; and soon from head to heel 
 
 Blazed War's dread statue, sculptured from the steel. 
 
 LXX. 
 
 Then through the doorway flew the winged guide. 
 Skimmed the long gallery, shunned the thronging hall. 
 
 And through deserted posterns, led the stride 
 Of its armed follower to the charger's stall ; 
 
 Loud neighed the destrier at the welcome clang. 
 
 And drowsy horseboys into service sprang. 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 Though threatened danger well the prince divined. 
 He deemed it churlish in ungracious haste 
 
 Thus to depart, nor thank a host so kind ; 
 
 But when the step the courteous thought retraced, 
 
 With breast and wing the do'^e opposed his way, 
 
 And warned with scaring scream the rash delay \ 
 
 ;; 
 
[book u. 
 
 fiOOK II. i 
 
 KING AttTHUn. 
 
 53 
 
 i^hite dove, 
 owers 
 
 howers, 
 
 jprung 
 
 lung; 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 The King reluctant yields. Now in the court 
 Paws with impatient hoof the barded steed; 
 
 Now yawn the sombre portals of the fort ; 
 
 Creaks the hoarse drawbridge ; now the walls are freed. 
 
 Thro' dun woods hanging o'er the ocean tide, 
 
 Glimmers the steel, and gleams the angel-guide. 
 
 It, 
 
 J cries, 
 
 vest, 
 prize, 
 
 heel 
 the steel. 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 An opening glade upon the headland's brow 
 Sudden admits the ocean and the day. 
 
 Lo ! the waves cleft before the gilded prow. 
 
 Where the tall war-ship, towering, sweeps to bay. 
 
 Why starts the King? — High over mast and sail 
 
 The Saxon Horse rides ghastly in the gale ! 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 guide, 
 onging hall, 
 ie 
 11; 
 
 lang. 
 
 Grateful to heaven, and heaven's plumed messenger. 
 He raised his reverent eyes, then shook the rein : 
 
 Bounded the barb, disdainful of the spur. 
 
 Cleared the steep cliff, and scoured along thf^ plain. 
 
 Still, while he sped, the swifter wings that lead 
 
 Seemed to rebuke for sloth the swiftening steed. 
 
 livined, 
 
 retraced, 
 way, 
 elay ; 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 Nor cause unmeet for grateful thought, I ween. 
 Had the good King ; nor vainly warned the bird, 
 
 Nor idly fled the steed ; as shall be seen, 
 
 If, where the Vandal and his friend conferred, 
 
 Awhile our path retracing, we relate 
 
 What craft deems guiltless when the craft of state. 
 
54 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book II. 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 " Sire," quoth Astutio, " well I comprehend 
 
 Your cause for grief ; the seedsman breaks the ground 
 
 For the new pl«nt ; new thrones that would extend 
 Th(;ir roots, must loosen all the earth around ; 
 
 For trees and thrones no rule than this more true. 
 
 What most disturbs the old best serves the new. 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 "Thus all ways wise to push your princely son 
 Under the soil of Cymri's ancient stem ; 
 
 And if the ground the thriving plant had won. 
 
 What prudent man will plants th?t thrive, condemn? 
 
 Sir, in your move a master hand is seen. 
 
 Your pawn so well-played might have caught a queen." 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 " And now checkmate !" the wretched sire exclaims, 
 With watering eyes, and mouth that watered too, 
 
 " Nay," quoth the sage ; " a match means many games. 
 Replace the pieces, and begin anew. 
 
 You want this Cymrian's crown — the want is just." 
 
 "But how to get it?"— "Sir, with ease, I trust." 
 
 LXXTX. 
 
 " The witch is married — better that than burn ; — 
 A well known text — to witches not applied — 
 
 But let that pass ; — great sir to Anglia turn. 
 And mate your Vandal w4th a Saxon bride. 
 
 Her dower," — Cried Ludovick, "The dower's the thing!" 
 
 "The lands and sceptre of the Cymrian King." 
 
[book II. 
 
 BOOK II.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR 
 
 55 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 the ground 
 extend 
 nd ; 
 B true, 
 tiew. 
 
 Tlien to that anxious sire the learned man 
 Bared the large purpose latent in his speech ; 
 
 O'er Britain's gloomy history glibly ran ; 
 
 Anglia's new kingdoms, he described them each ; 
 
 But most himself to Mercia he addresses, 
 
 For Mercia's King, great man, hath two princesses. 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 son 
 
 )n, 
 condemn? 
 
 a queen 
 
 n 
 
 claims, 
 ed too, 
 ny games. 
 
 just." 
 kst." 
 
 n;- 
 
 le thing!" 
 
 Long on this glowing theme enlarged the sage. 
 And turned, returned, and turned it o'er again ; 
 
 Thus when a mercer would your greed engage 
 In some fair silk, or cloth of comely grain. 
 
 He spreads it out — upholds it to the sun — 
 
 Strokes and restrokes it, and the pelf is won ! 
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 He showed the Saxon hungering to devour 
 
 The last unconquered realm the Cymrian boasts ; 
 
 He dwelt at length on Mercia's gathering power, 
 Swelled, year by year, from Elbe's unfailing hosts ; 
 
 Then proved how Mercia scarcely could retain 
 
 Beneath the sceptre what the sword might gain ; 
 
 LXXXIII. 
 
 *For Mercia's vales from Cymri's hills are far. 
 And Mercian warriors hard to keep afield ; 
 
 And men fresh conquered stormy subje?l,s are ; 
 What can't be held 't is no great loss to yield ; 
 
 And still the Saxon might secure his end. 
 
 If where the foe had reigned he lef^ a friend. 
 

 !i! 
 
 66 
 
 KING ABTHUB. 
 
 [boor II, 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 *Nay, what so politic in Mercia's king 
 As on that throne a sonin-bw to lac 3 1' 
 
 While thu i,hey saw ih« :r bii'i - n?xwk Jk wing 
 Ere hatched the Qgg, — as is the; <;obimon case 
 
 With large capacious minds, the ii^ourai -^irs 
 
 Of that vast property — the things not theirs ; 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 Ill comes a herald — comes with gtartling news : 
 A Saxon chief has anchored in the bay, 
 
 For Mercia's king ariibassador, and sues 
 The royal audience ere the close of day. 
 
 The wise old men upon each other stare. 
 
 *' While monarchs counsel, thus the saints prepare." 
 
 LXXXVI. 
 
 Murmured Astutio with a pious smile. 
 
 "Admit the noble Saxon," quoth the king. 
 The two laugh out, and rub their palms, the while 
 
 The herald speeds the ambassador to bring ; 
 And soon a chief, fair-haired, erect, and tall, 
 With train and trumpet strides along the hall. 
 
 LXXXVII. 
 
 Upon his wrist a falcon, bell'd, he bore, 
 
 Leashtd at his heels six blood-hounds grimly stalked ; 
 A broad round shield was slung his breast before ; 
 
 The floors reclanged with armour as he walked : 
 He gained the dais ; Lis standard-bearer spread 
 Broadly the bannei' o'er his helmed head ; 
 
 I'i t 
 
BOOK II.] 
 
 KINO ARTE JR. 
 
 57 
 
 LXXXVIII. 
 
 And tlii'xe the tromp his blazoned herald woke, 
 And hailed i^arl Harold from the Mercian king. 
 
 Full on the Vandal gazed the earl, and spoke : 
 " Greeting from Crida, Woden's heir, I bring, 
 
 Ad these plain words; — 'The Saxon's steel is bare, 
 Ked harvests waio it — will the Vandal share 1 
 
 LXXXIX. 
 
 " * Hengist first chased the Briton from the vale ; 
 
 Ciiu^ would hound the Briton from the hill ; 
 Stern Uands ha * e loosed the Pale Horse on the gale j 
 
 The Horse shall halt not till the winds are still. 
 Be ours your foemen, — be your foemen shown. 
 And we in turn will smite them as our own. 
 
 xc. 
 
 " * We need allies — in you allies we call ; 
 
 Your shores oppose the Cymrian's mountain sway; 
 Your armed men stand idle in your hall ; 
 
 Your vessels rot within your crowded bay : 
 Send three full squadrons to the Mercian bands — 
 Send seven tall war-ships to the Cymrian ...inds. 
 
 xci. 
 
 " * If this you grant, as, — from the old renown 
 Of Vandal valour, — Saxon men believe, 
 
 Our arms will solve all question to your crown ; 
 If not, the heirs you banish we receive ; 
 
 But one rude maxim Saxon bluntness knows — 
 
 We serve our friends, who are not friends are foes. 
 
 K:-;^-; 
 
I- 
 
 ' 
 
 58 
 
 KINO ARTHUR. 
 
 [book II. 
 
 XOII. 
 
 " * Thus speaks King Crida.' " Not the manner much 
 Of that brief speech wise Ludovick admired ; 
 
 But still the matter did so nearly touch 
 The great state-objects recently desired, 
 
 That, with a smile, ho gulped resentment down, 
 
 And trimmed the hook that angled for a crown. 
 
 XCIII. 
 
 Fair words he gave, and friendly hints of aid, 
 And prayed the envoy in his halls to rest ; 
 
 And more, in truth, to please the earl had said, 
 But that the sojourn of the earlier guest 
 
 (For not the parting of the Cymrian known) 
 
 Forbade his heart too broadly to bo shown. 
 
 xciv. 
 
 But ere a long and oily speech had closed, 
 
 Astutio, who the hall, when it begun. 
 Had left, to seek the prince, (whom he proposed, 
 
 If yet the tidings to his ear had won 
 Of his foe's envoy, by some smooth pretext 
 To lull) came back with visage much perplext — 
 
 xcv. 
 
 And whispered Ludovick — " The King has fled !" 
 The Vandal stammered, stared; but, versed in all 
 
 The quick resources of a wily head. 
 That out of evil still a good could call, 
 
 He did but pause, with more effect to wing 
 
 The stone that chance had fitted to his sling. 
 
 i 
 
 ! 
 
BOOK II.] 
 
 KING AllTIIUR. 
 
 59 
 
 XCVI. 
 
 '* Saxon," he said, "thus far we had premised, 
 And if still wavering, not our heart in fault. 
 
 Three days ago, the Cymrian king, disguised. 
 First drank our cup, and tasted of our salt, 
 
 And hence our zed to aid you we represt. 
 
 Lest men should say, 'the Vandal wronged his guest. 
 
 XCVII. 
 
 " Lo, while we speak, the saints the bond release ; 
 
 Arthur but now hath left us — we are free." 
 " Arthur — the Cymrian !" cried the envoy. "Peace ; 
 
 In deeds, not words, men's love the Saxons see : 
 Left you ! and whither ] But a word I need — 
 To launch my blood-hounds and to gui«.'e my steed." 
 
 XCVIII. 
 
 Dumb sate the Vandal, dumb with fear and shame, 
 No slave to virtue, but its shade, was he ; 
 
 A tower of strength is in an honest name — 
 * T is wise to seem what oft 't is dull to be ! 
 
 A kingly host a kingly guest betray ! 
 
 The chafing Saxon brooked not that delay — 
 
 xcix. 
 
 But turned his sparkling eyes behind, and saw 
 
 His knights and squires with zeal as fierce inflamed, 
 
 And out he spoke — "The hospitable law 
 
 We will not trench, whate'er the guest hath claimed 
 
 Let the host yield ; forgive, that, hotly stirred, 
 
 His course I questioned ; I retract the word : 
 
11 
 
 
 CO 
 
 KINO ARTHUR 
 
 [book II. 
 
 0. 
 
 " If on your hoartli he stands, protect ; within 
 Your reahn if wandering, guard him as you may ; 
 
 This hearth not ours, nor this our realm ; — no sin 
 To chace our foeman, whatsoe'er his way ; 
 
 Up spear — forth sword ! to selle each Saxon man — 
 
 Unleash the war-hounds — stay us those who can !" 
 
 CI. 
 
 Loud rang the armed tumult in the hall ; 
 
 Rushed to the doors the Saxon's fiery band ! 
 Yelled the gaunt blood-hounds loosened from the thrall ; 
 
 Steeds neighed ; leapt forth the falchion to the hand ; 
 Low on the earth the blood-hounds tracked the scent, 
 And where the guided there the hunters went. 
 
 CII. 
 
 Amazed the Vandal with his friend debates 
 
 What course were best in such extremes to choose ; 
 
 Nicely they weigh ; — the Saxons pass the gates : 
 Fmely refine ; — the chace its prey pursues. 
 
 And while the chace pursues, to him, whose way 
 
 The dove directs, well pleased, returns the lay. 
 
 cm. 
 
 Twilight was on the earth, when paused the King 
 Lone by the beach of far-resounding seas j 
 
 Rock upon rock, behind, a Titan ring, 
 
 Closed round a gorge o'erhung with breathless trees, 
 
 A horror of still umbrage ; and, before. 
 
 Wave-hollowed caves arched, ruinous, the shore. 
 
BOOK II.] 
 
 KINO ARTIIUU. 
 
 61 
 
 CIV. 
 
 Column and vault, and soaweed-dripping domes, 
 Long vistas opening through the streets of dark, 
 
 Seemed like a city's skeleton ; the homes 
 Of giant races vanished since tlio ark 
 
 Rested on Ararat : from side to side 
 
 Moaned the locked waves that ebb not with the tide. 
 
 cv. 
 
 Here, path forbid ; where, lengthening up the land, 
 The deep gorge stretches to a night of pine, 
 
 Veer the white wings ; and there the slackened hand 
 Guides the tired steed ; deeplier the shades decline ; 
 
 Dulled with each step into the darker gloom 
 
 Follows the ocean's hollow-sounding boom. 
 
 cvi. 
 
 Sudden starts back the steed, with bristling mane 
 And notrils snorting fear ; from out the shade 
 
 Loom the vast columns of a roofless fane, 
 
 Meet for some god whom savage man hath made : 
 
 A mighty pine-torch on the altar glowed 
 
 And lit the goddess of the grim abode — 
 
 cv/i. 
 
 So that the lurid idol, froir its throne. 
 
 Glared on the wanderer with a stony eye ; 
 
 The King breathed quick the Christian orison, 
 
 Spurred the scared barb, and passed abhorrent, by — 
 
 Nor marked a figure on the floor reclined; 
 
 It watched, it rose, it crept, it dogged behind. 
 
i! 
 
 n ' 
 
 M 
 
 62 
 
 KING AUTnUIl 
 
 [riooK Jr. 
 
 (jvm. 
 
 Throo (layH, throo nights, within that diHinfil nlirino, 
 ILvl couched that man, and hiingcnul for Imh prey. 
 
 Chi<5ftairi and prioHt of hordes that from tlin Jthino 
 Had tracked in carnage, tliitherwardn their way; 
 
 Fell Kouls that still maintained their riten of yor(!, 
 
 And hidoouH Jiltars rank with human gore. 
 
 rix. 
 
 Jjy monHtrouH Oracles a coming foo, 
 
 Vv •' jse steps appal his gods, hath bficn foretold; 
 The, fan<! must fall urdess the blood shall flow ; 
 
 Therefore three dayn^ thnic nights, he watched; Ixihold 
 At last the death-torch of the blazing pine; 
 Darts on the foe the lightning of the shrine. 
 
 <,x. 
 
 Stealthily on, amidst the bushwood, crept 
 With practised foot, and un relaxing eye, 
 
 Th(; steadfast Murder ; — where the still leaf slept 
 The still leaf stirred not : as it glided by 
 
 The mosses gave no echo : not a breath ! 
 
 Nature was hushed as if in league with Death. 
 
 ox I, 
 
 As moved the man, so, on the opposing sid(^ 
 Of the deep gorge, with purpo.'U! like his own, 
 
 Did steps us noisf^hiss to the blood-feast glide ; 
 Anil ,'is the man before his idol's throne 
 
 Had watched, — so watched, since daylight hift tho air, 
 A giant wolf within its leafy lair. 
 
BOOK II.] 
 
 KING Aimmn. 
 
 03 
 
 i'XIf. 
 
 Wlifftlior the; >)laz(: allnrf;<l, or Imii^^cr Htun^', 
 
 Thr;r<? Htill lijul cowcrfd, fin«l f;r<>ucli(;fl tlif^ lu-ant of prey; 
 
 Willi lurid (!yf!H nnwirikiri;^, spoil bonrid, 'liin;^ 
 To tlif! ruiar rid;,'*; that \'-av,va\ IIk; torclilit way ; 
 
 Ah tli<! «t<!(;(l paH.s<!(l, it ros(! : On fitlicr nido, 
 
 llorc glides the wild bf;<'>st, there the man doth glidf;. 
 
 (jxiir. 
 
 But, all uneonscioUH of the double foe, 
 
 PaUH(!d Arthur, when; his renting place the dov<! 
 
 Seemed to H«!leet, — his coueh a mound below ; 
 A bowering ])eeeh his canopy above ; 
 
 From its mailed harness he th*; steed rehased, 
 
 And left it, reinless, to its hfjrbage- ftiast ; 
 
 rxiv. 
 
 Then from his brow the helmet he unbraced. 
 And from his bn^ast the hanl)crk's heavy load ; 
 
 On the trees stem tin; trophied arms he placed. 
 And, ore to rest the wciary limbs bestowfjd, 
 
 Tlirice signed the cress the fifinrls of night, to scare, 
 
 And guarded hel2)less sleep with potent prayer. 
 
 ex V. 
 
 Then on the moss-grown couch he laid him dowji, 
 Fearless of night, and hopeful for the morn ; 
 
 On Sleep's soft lap the head without a crown 
 Forgot tliv gilded trouble, it had worn ; 
 
 Slumbcired the King-the browsing charger strayed- 
 
 Thc dove, unsleeping, vatcheil amidst the shade. 
 
64 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [Book ii. 
 
 cxvi. 
 
 5 •■ 
 
 And now, on either hand the dreaming King, 
 
 Death lialts to strike ; the crouched wild beast, here, 
 
 From the close crag prepares its hungry spring ; 
 There, from the thicket creaping, near and near, 
 
 Steals the wild man, and listfms for a sound — 
 
 Then, with clutcht knife, draws back for his grim bound. 
 
 CXVI I. 
 
 But what befell 1 O thou, whose gentle heart 
 Lists, scornful not, this unfamiliar rhyme ; 
 
 If, as thy steps to busier life depart. 
 
 Still in thine c^ar rings low the haunting chime, 
 
 When !^;isure suits once more forsake the throng, 
 
 Called childhood back, and re demand the song. 
 
[Book ii. 
 
 beast, here, 
 ring ; 
 d near, 
 fl— 
 ^rim bound. 
 
 art 
 
 chime, 
 irong, 
 ong. 
 
 Booh the Ihirb. 
 
n$ 
 
 !, 
 
 n 
 
 A liOirMENl' 
 
 r»i 
 
 Arthur still hiceps — The Hoiind.s tbat break his resi,— The war between the hoast and 
 the man- Hi»w oiided — The Christian foe and the heathen— The narrative rcturnH to 
 the; Saxoin in pnr.snit of Arthur -Their chase is stayed by the caverns described in the 
 preccdinff book, the tides havint; now advanced up the ffor^e through which Arthur 
 l)assod, and blocked that pathway- The hunt Is resu ned at dawn —The tides have re- 
 ceded from the tfor^c -One of the hounds find Hcei.t-The riders are on the track — 
 IIai.)ld heads the jtursuit — The beech tree— The man by the water-sprinj^ — The wood is 
 left 'Ihc kniffht on the bro* of the liill— Parley between the earl and the knij^ht— The 
 encounter Harold's addrcHS to his men, and his foe— His foe's reply — The Dove and_ 
 the Falcon The uncxj)ected su(!cour - And conclusion of the fray — The narrative passes 
 on to the description of the Happy Valley— In which the dwellers await the cominjf of n 
 straiijfer -History of the Ha|)))y Valley— A crdony founded by Etrurians from FiesolA, 
 forewarned of the; destined trio wth of the Roman Doniinion— Its stranjfe seclusion and 
 safety from the chanjjes of the ancient world- The law that forbade tlie daughters of the 
 Lartian or ruling family to marry into other clans — Only one daughter (the cpieen) is 
 left now, and the male line in the whole Lartian clan is extinct — Tlie contrivance of the 
 Augur for the contiiniancc of the royal house, sanctified by the two fonner precedents 
 - -A straiig(!r is to be lured into the valley The simple dwellers therein to be deceived 
 into believing him a god— He is to be married to the qu.sen, and then, on the birth of a 
 son, to vanish again amongst the gods, (/. e. to be secretly knade away with)— Two tem- 
 ples at the oi)i>osite ends of the valley give the only gates to the place -By the first, 
 dedicated to Tina (the Kirurian Jove), the stranger is to be admitted — In the second, 
 dedicated to Maiitu, (the god of the shadeH,)-he is destined to vanish — Such a stranger 
 is now exjiectcd in the Hajipy Valley— He emerges, led by the Augur, fi'>m the temple 
 of Tma— yF.gle, the queen, described — Her stranger-bridegroom is led to her bower. 
 
Booh iUhree. 
 
 the boaflt and 
 vc returns to 
 ;scrit>e(l in the 
 which Arthur 
 tides have re- 
 on the track — 
 ;— The wood is 
 e kni>,'ht— The 
 The Dove and 
 arrative passes 
 he coming of a 
 Ft from FiesolA, 
 I KCcluHion and 
 lUKhtcrs of the 
 • (the queen) is 
 trivancc of the 
 ner precedents 
 to he deceived 
 the birth of a 
 th)— Two tem- 
 — By the first, 
 In the second, 
 uch a stranger 
 >m the temple 
 ^»er bower. 
 
 raise the curtain, where the unconscious King 
 
 Beneath the beech his fearless couch had made ; 
 Here, tlie fierce fangs i)repared their deadly spring; 
 
 There, in the hand of Murther gleamed the blade; 
 And not a sound to v/arn him from above ; [dove ! 
 
 Where, still unsleeping, watched the guardian 
 
 II. 
 
 Hark, a dull crash ! — a howling, ravenous yell ! 
 
 Opening fell symphony of ghastly sound, 
 Jarring, yet blent, as if the dismal hell 
 
 Sent its strange anguish from the rent profound ; 
 Through all its scale the horrible discord ran, 
 Now mocked the beast, now took the groan of man ; 
 
 III. 
 
 Wrath, and the grind of gnashing teeth ; the growl 
 
 Of famine routed from its red repast ; 
 Shaq) shrilling pain ; and fury from some soul 
 
 That fronts despair, and wrestles to the last. 
 Ui)sprang the King ; — thro' treiliced leav<'S the ray 
 Of the still moon just wins its glimmering way. 
 
 s 
 
68 
 
 KING ABTIIUB. 
 
 [book III 
 
 IV. 
 
 t i 
 
 I'ii 
 
 And lo, before him, close, yet wanly faint, 
 
 Forms that seem shadows, strife that seems the sport 
 
 Of things that oft some holy hermit-saint 
 Lone in Egyptian plains — the diead resort 
 
 Of Nile's dethroned demon gods — hath viewed ; 
 
 The grisly tempters, born of Solitude : — 
 
 V. 
 
 Coiled, in the strong death-grapple, through the dim 
 And haggard air, before the Cymrian lay 
 
 Writhing and interlaced, with fang and limb, 
 As if one shape, what seemed a beast of prey 
 
 And the grand form of Man ! — The bird of Heaven 
 
 Wisely iio note to warn the sleep had given , 
 
 VI. 
 
 The sleep protected ; — as the murderer sprang 
 
 So sprang the wolf, -each tow'rds the dreamer's breast: 
 
 Midway they met; — The murderer found the fang, 
 The wolf the steel; — so, starting from his rest 
 
 The saved man woke to save ! Nor time was here 
 
 For pause or caution ; for the sword or spear ; 
 
 VII. 
 
 Clasped round the wjlf, swift arms of iron draw 
 From their fierce hold its buried fangs; — on high 
 
 Up-borne, the baffled terrors of its jaw 
 
 Gnash vain ; — one yell howls, hollow, through the sky ; 
 
 And dies abruptly, stifled to a gasp, 
 
 As pants the wild-beast in its conqueror's grasp. 
 
 , 
 
 lis 
 
OOK III 
 
 BOOK III.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 69 
 
 VIII. 
 
 le sport 
 
 dim 
 
 iveii 
 
 breast : 
 
 
 lere 
 
 high 
 le sky ; 
 
 Fit for a nation's bulwark that strong breast 
 
 To Wiiich the strong arms lock the powerless foe, 
 
 Till its limbs stir not, — till its gasp hath ceast; 
 Aii<l lifeless down the dull weight drops below. 
 
 The kindred form, which now the King surveys, 
 
 Those arms, all gentle as a woman's, raise. 
 
 IX. 
 
 The pale cheek pillowed on his pitying heart. 
 
 He wipes the blood from face and breast, and limb. 
 
 And joyful sees — for no humaner art 
 
 Which Christian knighthood knows, unknown to him — 
 
 That the fell fangs the nobler parts forbore. 
 
 And, thanks, sweet Virgin ! — life returns once more. 
 
 X. 
 
 Eound him the savage stared ; from dizzy eyes 
 Tossed the wild shaggy hair; and to his knee, — 
 
 His reeling feet — up staggered— Lo, where lies 
 The dead wild beast! — lo, in his saviour, see 
 
 The fellow-man, whom : — With a feeble bound 
 
 He leapt, and snatched the dagger from the ground ; 
 
 XI. 
 
 And, faithful to his gods, he sprang to slay ; 
 
 Breath and force failed him ; gleamed and dropped the blade ; 
 The arm hung nerveless ; by the beast of prey 
 
 Murder, still baffled, fell : — Then, soothing, said 
 The gentle King — " Beiiold no foe in me !" 
 And knelt by Hate like pitying Charity. 
 
70 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book III. 
 
 i \ 
 
 i\A 
 
 XII. 
 
 In suffering man he could not own a foe, 
 
 And his mild hand clasped that which yearned to kill ! 
 
 " Ha," gasp'd the gazing savage, " dost thou know 
 That I had doomed thee in thy sleep ? — that still 
 
 My soul would doom thee, could my hand obey ? — 
 
 Wake thou, stern goddess — seize thyself the prey 1" 
 
 XIII. 
 
 " Serv'st thou a goddess," ■'aid the wondering King, 
 *' Whose rites ask innocent blood 1 — brother, learn 
 
 In hr;vven, in earth, in each created thing, 
 
 One God, whom all call ' Father,' to discern !" 
 
 " Can thy God -uffer thy God's foe to live ?" 
 
 "God once had foes, and said to man, 'Forgive.'" 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Answered the Christian V "ream- like the mild words 
 Fell Oxi. the ear, as sense again gave way 
 
 To swooning sleep; which woke but with the birds 
 In the cold clearness of the dawning day. — 
 
 Strung by that sleep, the savage scowled around ; 
 
 Why droops his head ? Kind hands his wounds have bound! 
 
 XV. 
 
 Lonely he stood, and missed that tender foe ? 
 
 The wolf's glazed eye-ball mutely met his own ; 
 Beyond, the pine-brand sent its sullen glow, 
 
 Circling blood-red the awful altar stone ; 
 Blood- red, a.j sinks the sun, from land afar. 
 Ere tempests wreck the Amalfian mariner ; 
 
 ^; 
 
 , 
 
BOOK III. 
 
 BOOK III.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 to kill ! 
 still 
 
 ?— 
 
 % learn 
 
 »>» 
 
 words 
 irds 
 
 i; 
 
 bound! 
 
 t^i 
 
 Or as, when Mars sits in the House of Death 
 For doomed Aleppo, on the hopeless Moor 
 
 Glares the fierce orb from skies witlujut a breath, 
 While the chalked signal on the abhorred door 
 
 Tells that the Pestilence is come ! — The pine 
 
 Unheeded wastes upon the hideous shrine ; 
 
 XVII. 
 
 The priest returns not ; — from its jri'^nt throne, 
 The idol calls in vain : — its ixwIva is o'er ; 
 
 The Dire Religioa flies the altar-stone, 
 
 For love has breathed on what was hate before. 
 
 Lured by man's heart, by man's kind deeds subdued, 
 
 Him who had pai\)one<u he who wronged pursued. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Meanwhile speeds on the Saxon chace, behind ; — 
 Baffled at first, and doubling to and fro, 
 
 At last the war-dogs snort the fatal wind. 
 
 Burst on the scent, which gathers as they go ; 
 
 Day wanes, night conies ; the star succeeds the sun, 
 
 To light the hunt until the quarry's won. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 At the first grey of dawn, they halt before 
 The fretted arches of the giant caves ; 
 
 For here the tides rush full upon the shore. 
 
 The failing scent is snatched amidst the waves,— 
 
 Waves block the entrance of the gorge unseen ; 
 
 And roar, hoarse-surging, up the pent ravine. 
 
 mmmm 
 
72 
 
 KING ARTHUR 
 
 Tbook III. 
 
 XX. 
 
 And worn, and spent, and panting, flag the steeds, 
 With mail and man bowed down ; not meet to breast 
 
 The hell of waters, whence no pathway leads, 
 And Avhich no plummet sou ids; — Reluctant rest 
 
 Checks the pursuit, till sullenly and slow 
 
 Back, threatening stilJ, the hosts of Ocean go, — 
 
 Si 
 
 XXI. 
 
 And the bright clouds that circled the fair sun 
 Melt in the azure of the mellowing sky ; 
 
 Then liark again the human hunt begun, 
 The ringing hoof, the hunter's cheering cry; 
 
 Round and round, by sand, and cave, and steep, 
 The doubtful ban-dogs, undulating sweep : 
 
 XXII. 
 
 One of them, now winds where the wave hath left 
 The unguarded portals of the gorge, and there 
 
 Far-wandering halts ; and Trom a rocky cleft 
 Spreads his keen nostril to the whispering air ; 
 
 Then, with trailed ears, moves cowering o'er the ground, 
 
 The deep bay booming breaks : — the scent is found. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Hound answers hound, — along the dark ravine 
 
 Pours the fresh wave of spears and tossing plumes ; 
 
 On — on ; and 'now the idol-shrine obscene 
 The dying pine-brand flickeringly iliumes ; 
 
 The dogs go glancing through the shafts of stone. 
 
 Trample the altar, hurtle round the throne : 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^ '.■ # 
 
reooK III. 
 
 BOOK III.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 7$ 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 ccds, 
 to breast 
 
 rest 
 
 ^P, 
 
 left 
 
 re 
 
 r; 
 
 ground, 
 •und. 
 
 il 
 
 plumes j 
 
 ne, 
 
 ■IX 
 
 Where the lone priest had watched, they pause awhile ; 
 
 Then forth, hard-breathing, down the gorge they swoop; 
 Soon ttie swart woods that close the far defile 
 
 Gleam with the shimmer of the steel-clad troop ; 
 Glinting th ough leaves, — now brightening through the glade, 
 Now lost, dispersed amidst the matted shade. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Foremost rode Harold, on a matchless steed. 
 
 Whoso sire, from Afric coasts a sea-king bore, 
 And gave the Mercian, as his noblest meed. 
 
 What ''me, then beardless, to Norwegian shore 
 Against a 'common foe, the Saxon Thane 
 Led three tall ships, and launched them on the Dane : 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Foremost he rode, and on his mailed breast 
 
 Cranched the strong branches of the groaning oak. 
 
 Hark, with full peal, as suddenly supprest, 
 Behind, the ban-dog's choral joy-cry broke ! 
 
 Led by the note, he turns him back, to reach, 
 
 Near the wood's marge, a solitary beech. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 Clear space spreads round it for a rood or more ; 
 
 Where o'er the space the feathering branches bend, 
 The dogs, wedged close, with jaws that drip with gore, 
 
 Growl o'er the carcase of the wolf they rend. 
 Shamed at their lord's rebuke, they leave the feast — 
 Scent the fresh foot-track of the idol priest ; 
 

 
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74 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book III. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 And, track by track, deep, deeper through the maze, 
 Slowly they go — the watchful earl behind. 
 
 Here the soft earth a recent hoof betrays ; 
 And still a footstep near the hoof they find ; — 
 
 So on, so on — the pathway spreads more large. 
 
 And daylight rushes o'er the forest marge. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 The dogs bound emulous; but, snarling, shrink 
 Back at the anger of the earl's quick cry ; — 
 
 Near a small water spring, had paused to drink 
 A man half clad, who now, with kindling eye. 
 
 And lifted knife, roused by the hostile sounds. 
 
 Plants his firm foot, and fronts the glaring hounds. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 " Fear not, rude stranger," quoth the earl in scorn ; 
 
 " Mot thee I seek ; my dogs chace nobler prey. 
 Speak, thou hast seen, if wandering here since mom, 
 
 A lonely horaeman ; — whither wends his way 1" 
 " Track'st thou his steps in love or hate 1" — "Why, so 
 As hawk its quarry, or as man his foe." 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 " Thou dost not serve his God," the heathen said \ 
 And sullen turned to quench his thirst again. 
 
 The fierce earl chafed, but longer not delayed ; 
 For what he sought the earth itself made plain 
 
 In the clear 1 oof prints ; to the hounds he showed 
 
 The clue, and, cheering as they tracked, he lode. 
 
[book III. 
 
 BOOK III.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 75 
 
 e maze, 
 
 nk 
 'ye, 
 
 mnds. 
 
 scorn ; 
 rey. 
 3 morn, 
 
 *Why, so 
 
 said; 
 1. 
 
 lain 
 
 )wed 
 
 ►de. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 But thrice, to guide his comrades from the maze, 
 Rings through the echoing wood his lusty horn. 
 
 Now o'er waste pastures where the wild bulls graze. 
 Now labouring up slow-lengthening headlands borne. 
 
 The steadfast hounds outstrip the horseman's flight. 
 
 And on the hill's dim summit fade from sight. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 But scarcely fade, before, though faint and far, 
 Fierce wrathful yells the foe at bay reveal. 
 
 On spurs the Saxon, till, like some pale star, 
 Gleams on the hill a lance — a helm of steel. 
 
 The brow is gained ; a space of level land. 
 
 Bare to the sun — a grove at either hand ; 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 And in the middle of the space a mound ; 
 
 And, on the mound a knight upon his barb. 
 No need for herald there his tromp to sound! — 
 
 No need for diadem and ermine garb ! 
 Nature herself has crowned that lion mien ; 
 And in the man the king of men is seen. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 Upon his helmet sits a snow-white dove. 
 Its plumage blending with the plumed crest. 
 
 Below the mount, recoiling, circling, move 
 The ban-dogs, awed by the majestic rest 
 
 Of the great foe ; and, yet with fangs that grin. 
 
 And eyes that redden, raves the madding din. 
 
76 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book hi. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 still stands the steed ; still, shining in the sun. 
 Sits on the steed the rider, statue like ; 
 
 One stately hand upon his haunch, while one 
 Lifts the tall lance, disdainful ev'n to strike ; 
 
 Calm from the roar obscene looks forth his gaze. 
 
 Calm as the moon at which the watch-dog bays. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 The Saxon reigned his destrier on the brow 
 Of the broad hill ; and if his inmost heart 
 
 Ever confest to fear, fear touched it now; — 
 
 Not that chill pang which strife and death impart 
 
 To meaner men, but such religious awe 
 
 As from brave souls a foe admired can draw : 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 Behind a quick and anxious glance he threw, 
 And pleased beheld spur midway up the hill 
 
 His knights* and squires; again his horn he blew. 
 
 Then hushed the ^hounds, and neared the slope where stiil, 
 
 The might of Arthur rested, as in a cloud 
 
 Bests thunder ; there his haughty crest he bowed, 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 And lowered his lance, and said — " Dread foe and lord, 
 
 Pardon the Saxon Harold, nor disdain 
 To yield to warrior hand a kingly sword. 
 
 Behold my numbers ! to resist were vain. 
 And flight — " Said Arthur, " Saxon, is a word 
 From warrior lips a king should not have heard: 
 
 * See note 6 in Appendix. 
 
 
7[, 
 
 BOOK III.] 
 
 KING ARTHUn, 
 
 77 
 
 XL. 
 
 "And, sooth to say, when Cymri's knights shall ride 
 To chace a Saxon monarch from the plain, 
 
 More knightly sport shall Cymri's king provide. 
 And Cymrian tromps shall ring a nobler strain. 
 
 Warrior, forsooth ! when first went warrior, say, 
 
 With hound and horn — God's image for the prey 1" 
 
 XLI. 
 
 Galled to the quick, the fiery earl erect 
 Rose in his stirrups, shook his iron hand. 
 
 And cried — " Alfader ! but for the respect 
 Armed numbers owe to one, my Saxon brand 
 
 Should — but why words 1 Ho, Mercia to the field ! 
 
 Lance to the rest ! — jrield, scornful Cymiian, yield !" 
 
 XLII. 
 
 For answer, Arthur closed his bassinet. 
 
 Then down it broke, the thunder from that cloud 1 
 And, ev'n as thunder by the thunder met. 
 
 O'er his spurred steed broad-breasted Harold bowed; 
 Swift through the air the rushing armour flashed, 
 And in the shock commingling tempests clashed. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 The Cymrian's lance smote on the Mercian's breast. 
 Through the pierced shield, there, shivering in the hand. 
 
 The dove had stirred not on the Prince's crest, 
 And on his destrier bore him to the band. 
 
 Which, moving not, but in a steadfast ring. 
 
 With levelled lances front the coming King. 
 
78 
 
 kim AUTHun. 
 
 [book 111. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 His shivered lance thrown by, high o'er his head, 
 Plucked from the selle, his battle axe he shook — 
 
 Paused for an instant — breathed his foaming steed. 
 And chose his pathway with one lightning look : 
 
 From the hill's brow extending either side, 
 
 The Saxon troop the rearward woods denied; 
 
 XLV. 
 
 These gained, their numbers less their strife avail. 
 
 He paused, and every voice cried — "Yield, brave King!" 
 Scarce died the word ere through the wall of mail 
 
 Flashes the breech, and backwards reels the ring, 
 Plumes shorn, shields cloven, man and horse o'erthrown, 
 As the armed meteor flames and rushes on. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 Till then, the danger shared, upon his crest, 
 Unmoved and calm, had sate the faithful dove, 
 
 Serene as, braved for some beloved breast 
 All peril finds the gentle hero, — Love ; 
 
 But rising now, towards the dexter side 
 
 Where stretch the woods, the prencient pinions guide. 
 
 XLVIl. 
 
 Near the green marge the Cymrian checks the rein, 
 And, ev'n forgetful of the dove, wheels round, 
 
 To front the foe that follows up the plain : 
 So when the lion, with a single bound, 
 
 Breaks through Numidian spears, — he halts before 
 
 His den; and roots dread feet that fly no more. 
 
fiOolt III.] 
 
 KING ABT^Un. 
 
 Yd 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 Their riven ranks reformed, the Saxons move 
 In curving crescent, close, compact, and slow 
 
 Behind the earl ; who feels a hero's love 
 Fill his large heart for that great hero foe ; 
 
 Murmuring, "May Harold, thus confronting all, 
 
 Pass from the spear-storm to the Golden Hall !"* 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 Then to his band — "If prophecy and sign 
 
 Paling men's cheeks, and read by wizard seers. 
 
 Had not declared that Woden's threatened line, 
 And the large birthright of the Saxon spears. 
 
 Were crossed by SKULDA,t in the baleful skein 
 
 Of him who dares * The choosers of the Slain,':]: 
 
 " If not forbid against his single arm 
 Singly to try the even-sworded strife. 
 
 Since his new gods, or Merlin's mighty charm, 
 Hath made a host the were-geld of his life — 
 
 Not ours this shame ! — here one, and there a field. 
 
 But men are waxen when the fates are steeled. 
 
 LI. 
 
 "Seize we our captive, so the gods command — 
 But ye are men, let manhood guide the blowj 
 
 Spare life, or but with life-defending hand 
 Strike — and Walhalla take that noble foe ! 
 
 Sound tromp, speed truce." — Sedately from the rest 
 
 Rode out the earl, and Cymri thus addres;, : — 
 
 * Walhalla. t SRnLDA, the Norna, or Destiny, of the Future. 
 
 t The Valkyrs (in Saxon, Valcyrge, Valcyrian, the Choosers of the Slain, who ride 
 before the battle, and select its victims ; to whom afterwards (softeninff their charac- 
 ter) they administer in Walhalla. 
 
80 
 
 KINO ARTHUR. 
 
 [book III. 
 
 LII. 
 
 " Our steels have crossed : hate shivers on the shield ; 
 
 If the speech galled, the lance atones the word : 
 Yield, for thy valour wins the right to yield ; 
 
 Unstained the scutcheon, though resigned the sword. 
 Grant us the grace, which chance — not arms — hath won : 
 Why strike the many who would save the one 1" 
 
 LIII. 
 
 " Fair foe, and courteous," answered Arthur, moved 
 By that chivalric speech, " too well the might 
 
 Of Mercia's famous Harold have I proved, 
 To deem it shame to yield as knight to knight; 
 
 But a king's sword is by a nation given, 
 
 Who guards a people holds his post from heaven. 
 
 LIV. 
 
 " This freedom which thou ask'st me to resign 
 Than life is dearer; were it but to show 
 
 That with my people thinks their King! — divine 
 Through me all Cjrmri ! — Streams shall cease to flow, 
 
 Yon sun to shine, before to Saxon strife 
 
 One Cymrian yields his freedom save with life. 
 
 LV. 
 
 "And so the saints assoil ye of my blood ; 
 
 Return ; — ^the rest we leave unto our cause 
 And the just heavens ;" All silent, Harold stood 
 
 And his heart smote him. Now, amidst that pause, 
 Arthur looked up, and in the calm above 
 Behold a falcon wheeling round the dove ! 
 
BOOK III. 
 
 BOOK III.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 81 
 
 ) shield ; 
 )rd: 
 
 e sword, 
 ith won : 
 
 3?" 
 
 Dved 
 
 lit 
 
 ght; 
 
 ^en. 
 
 me 
 
 ) to flow, 
 
 B. 
 
 ood 
 
 lat pause, 
 
 tvi. 
 
 For thus it chanced ; the bird which Harold bore — 
 As was the Saxon Wont* — whatc'er his way, 
 
 Had, in the woodland, slipt the hood it wore. 
 Unmarked ; and, when the bloodhounds yelped at bay. 
 
 Lured by the sound, had risen on the wing, 
 
 Far o'er the fierce encounter hovering — 
 
 LVII. 
 
 Till when the dove had left, to guide, her lord. 
 It caught the white plume glancing where it went ; 
 
 High in large circles to its height it soared. 
 
 Swooped ; — the light pinion foiled the fierce descent ; 
 
 The falcon rose rebounding to the prey ; 
 
 And barred the refuge — fronting still the way. 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 In vain to Arthur seeks the dove to flee; 
 
 Round her and round, with every sweep more near. 
 The swift destroyer circles rapidly. 
 
 Fixing keen eyes that fascinate with fear, 
 A moment — and a shaft, than wing more fleet. 
 Hurls the pierced falcon at the Saxon's feat. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 Down, heavily it fell ; — a moment stirred 
 Its fluttering plumes, and rolled its glazing eye ; 
 
 But ev'n before the breath forsook the bird, 
 Ev'n while the arrow whistled through the sky. 
 
 Rushed from the grove which screened the marksman's hand. 
 With yell and whoop, a wild barbarian band — 
 
 • The hawk was sacred to Odin, or, as the Saxons (fond of the w) wrote the name, 
 Woden, and aUnost inseparably borne by the high-born warriors of the nations by 
 whom Odin was worshipped, whether Teutonic or Scandinavian. Hounds were also 
 invariable attendants of the Saxon chiefs. 
 
 G 
 
83 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book III. 
 
 LX. 
 
 Half clad, with hides of beast, and shields of horn, 
 And huge clubs cloven from the knotted pine ; 
 
 And spears like those by Thor's great children borne. 
 When Caesar arched with moving steel* the Rhine — 
 
 Countless they start, as if from every tree 
 
 Had sprung the uncouth defending deity; 
 
 LXI. 
 
 They pass the King, low bending as they pass ; 
 
 Bear back the startled Harold on their way ; 
 And roaring onward, mass succeeding mass, 
 
 Snatched the hemmed Saxons from the King's survey. 
 On Arthur's crest the dove refolds its wing ; 
 On Arthur's ear a voice comes murmuring: 
 
 LXII. 
 
 " Man, have I served thy God 1" and Arthur saw 
 The savage priest-chief, leaning on his bow ; 
 
 " Ay, and now aid me to fulfil His law, 
 Which, doubling victory, bids us spare a foe ;" 
 
 And as a ship, cleaving the severed tides. 
 
 Right through the sea of spears the hero rides. 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 The wild troop part submissive as he goes ; 
 
 Where, like an islet in that stormy main. 
 Gleamed Mercia's steel ; and like a rock arose, 
 
 Breasting the breakers, the undaunted Thane ; 
 He doffed his helmet, looked majestic round ; 
 And dropped the murderous weapon on the ground; 
 
 * See in Plutarch (vit. Cscs.) and in Csesar's Conunentaries Gib. iv.) the description 
 of this renowned passage. Caesar was the first Roman who ever crossed the Rhine as 
 an enemy. To do so in vessels he deemed not only unsafe, hut unworthy of his own 
 and the Roman dignitv. Ten days wore consumed in the coustructiou of his bridge 
 and the transport of his legions. 
 
 
[book III. 
 
 BOOK III.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 83 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 horn, 
 ine ; 
 
 n borne, 
 5 Rhine — 
 
 And with a meek and brotherly embrace 
 
 Twined round the Saxon's neck the peaceful arm. 
 
 Strife stood arrested — the mild kingly face, 
 The loving gesture, like a holy charm. 
 
 Thrilled through the ranks : you might have heard a breath ! 
 
 So did soft Silence seem to bury Death. 
 
 is; 
 
 igs survey. 
 
 r saw 
 
 :oe ; 
 
 ies. 
 
 
 le, 
 ane; 
 
 •• } 
 
 ground ; 
 
 the description 
 Bed the Rhine as 
 )rthy of his own 
 )U of his bridge 
 
 LXV. 
 
 On the fair locks, and on the noble brow. 
 Fell the full splendour of the heavenly ray ; 
 
 The dove, dislodged, flew up — and rested now. 
 Poised in the tranquil and translucent day ; 
 
 The calm wings seemed to canopy the head; 
 
 And from each plume a parting glory spread. 
 
 LXVI. ' 
 
 So leave we that still picture on the eye ; 
 
 And turn, reluctant, where the wand of Song 
 Points to the walls of Time's long gallery ; 
 
 And the dim Beautiful of Eld — too long 
 Mouldering unheeded in these later days. 
 Starts from the canvas, brightening as we gaze. 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 lovely scene which smiles upon my view. 
 
 As sure, it smiled on some Greek painter's dream 
 
 Of that soft isle in which the dwellers knew 
 No queen but Cytherea ! All things seem 
 
 Formed for the home of Love ! — Arcades and bowers, 
 
 Mellifluous waters lapsing amidst flowers. 
 
84 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 ([book III. 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 Or springing up, in multiform disport, 
 From countless founts, dolightcdly at play ; 
 
 As if the Naiad held hor joyous court 
 
 To greet the goddess whom the flowers obey ; 
 
 And all her nymphs took varying shapes in glee, 
 
 Bell'd like the blossom — branching like the tree. 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 Adown the cedarn alleys glanced the wings 
 Of all the painted populace of air. 
 
 Whatever lulls the noonday while it sings, 
 Or mocks the iris with its plumes, — is there — 
 
 Music and air so interfused and blent, 
 
 That music seems life's breathing element. 
 
 LXX. 
 
 And every alley's stately vista closed 
 
 With some fair statue, on whoso gleaming base 
 
 Beauty, not earth's, benignantly reposed. 
 As if the gods were native to the place ; 
 
 And fair indeed the mortal forms, I ween, 
 
 Whose presence brings no discord to the scene ! 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 fair they are, if mortal forms they be ! 
 
 Mine eye the lovely error must beguile ; 
 See I the Hours, when from the lulled sea* 
 
 Came Aphrodite to the rosy isle, 
 What time they left their orient halls above. 
 To greet on earth their best beguiler — Love ? 
 
 * Horn. Hymn. 
 
 „ 
 
|[book III. 
 
 BOOK III.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 85 
 
 glco, 
 treo. 
 
 ere — 
 
 1 base 
 
 cue ! 
 
 e, 
 j1 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 Or are they Oreads from the Delphian steep 
 
 Waiting their goddess of tlie silver bow 1 
 Or shy Naproae,* startled from their sleep, 
 
 Where blue Cythaeron guards sweet vales below, 
 Watching as home, from vanquished Tnd afar, 
 Comes the.r loved Eviau in the panther-car ? 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 Wliy stream ye thus from yonder arching bowers ? 
 
 Whom wait, whom watch ye for, lovely band 1 
 With spears that, thyisus-like, glance, wreathed, with flowers, 
 
 And garland-fetters, linking hand to hand, 
 And locks, from which drop blossoms on your way, 
 Like starry buds from the loose crown of May 1 
 
 ixxiv. 
 
 Behold how Alp on Alp shuts out the scene 
 
 From all the ruder world that lies afar ; 
 Deep, fathom deep, the valley which they screen, 
 
 Deep, as in chasms of cloud a happy star ! 
 What pass admits the stranger to your land 1 
 Whom wait, whom watch ye for, lovely band 1 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 Ages ngo, what time the barbarous hcide, 
 
 From whose rough bosoms sprang Imperial Rome, 
 
 Drew the slow-widening circle of the sword 
 Till kingdoms vanished in a robber's home, 
 
 A wise Etrurian Lar,+ forewarned, 't was said. 
 
 By his dark Caere, j from the danger fled ; 
 
 '* Napxse, the most bashful of all the rural nymphs ; their rare apparitioit was sup- 
 posed to produce delirium in the beholder. 
 
 t See note 2 in Appendix. 
 
 i Ca>re, one of the twelve cities in the Etrurian lea(^c (though not originally an 
 Etrurian population), imparted to the Romans their sacred mysteries: hence the word 
 
86 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book III. 
 
 I !l 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 He left the vines of fruitful Fiesol^, 
 Left, with his household gods and chosen clan, 
 
 Intent beyond the Ausonian bounds to flee 
 Rome's shadow lengthening o'er the world of man. 
 
 So came the exiles to the rocky wall 
 
 Which, centuries after, frowned on Hannibal. 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 Here, it so chanced, that down the deep profound 
 Of some huge Alp — a strayed Etrurian fell ; 
 
 The pious rites ordained to explore the ground, 
 And give the ashes to the funeral cell ; 
 
 Slowly they gained the gulf, to scare away 
 
 A vulture ravening on the mangled clay j 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 Smit by a javelin from the leader's hand, 
 The bird crept fluttering down a deep defile. 
 
 Through whose far end faint glimpses of a land 
 Sunned by a softer daylight, sent a smile; 
 
 Thin seen, the attendant seer ordained the Lar 
 
 Tc take the glimmer for the guiding star. 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 Wliat seemed a gorge was but a vistaed cave. 
 
 Long-drawn and hollowed through primeval stone ; 
 
 Rude was the path, but as, beyond the grave 
 Elysium shines, the glorious landscape shone. 
 
 Broadening and brightening — till their wonder sees 
 
 Bloom through the Alps the lost Hesperides. 
 
 Cseremonia. This Holy city was in close connection with Delphi. An interesting ac- 
 count of it, under its earlier name " Agylla," will be found in Sir W. Cell's *' Topo- 
 graphy of Rome and its vicinity." The obscure passage in Plutarch's Life of Sylla, 
 which intimates that the Etrurian soothsayers had a forewarning of the declining fates 
 of their country, is well known to scholars. 
 
[book III. 
 
 BOOK III.] 
 
 Kim ARTHUn. 
 
 87 
 
 ;laii, 
 of man. 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 There, the sweet sunlight, from the heights debarred. 
 Gathered its pomp to lavish on the vale ; 
 
 A wealth of wild sweets glittered on the sward, 
 Screened by the very snow-rocks from the gale ; 
 
 Murmured clear waters, murmured joyous birds, 
 
 And o'er soft pastures roved the fearless herds. 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 bund 
 id, 
 
 lie, 
 and 
 
 iar 
 
 His rod the Augur waves above the ground, 
 And cries, *' In Tina's name I bless the soil."* 
 
 With veiled brows the exiles circle round ; 
 Along the rod propitious lightnings coil ; 
 
 The gods approve ; rejoicing hands combine, 
 
 Swift springs a sylvan city from the pine. 
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 What charm yet fails them in the lovely place ? 
 
 Childhood's gay laugh — and woman's tender smile. 
 A chosen few the veuturous steps retrace ; 
 
 Love lightens toil for those who rest the while ; 
 And, ere the winter stills the saddened bird, 
 The sweeter music of glad homes is heard ; 
 
 r 
 
 d stone ; 
 ^e 
 ne, 
 er sees 
 
 * Tina was the Jove of thf Etrurians. The mode in which this people (whose mysteri- 
 o«f civilization so tasks or' i ncy and so escapes from our researches) appropriated a 
 colony is briefly describe' a the text. The Augur made lines in tne air due north, 
 south, east, and west, ma i;ed where the lines crossed upon the earth ; then he and the 
 chiefs associated with him sate down, covered t'yjcir heads, and waited some approving 
 omen from the jfods. The Etrurian Augers were celebrated for their power over the 
 electric fluid. The vulture was a popular bird of omen in the founding of colonies. 
 See Niebuhr, MUUer, &c. 
 
 n interesting ac- 
 ^ Cell's "Topo- 
 a Life of Sylla, 
 2 declining fates 
 
88 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book hi. 
 
 h I 
 
 i; 
 
 LXXXIII. 
 
 And; with the objects of the dearer care, 
 The parting gifts of the old soil are borne ; 
 
 Soon Tusca's grape hangs flushing in the air, 
 Soon fields wave golden with the ripplir^ corn ; 
 
 Gleams on grey slopes the olive's silvery ree, 
 
 In her lone Alpine child, — far riesol6 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 Revives — reblooms, but under happier stars ! 
 
 Age rolls on age, — upon the antique world 
 Full many a storm hath graved its thunder scars ; 
 
 Tombs only speak the Etrurian's language :* — hurled 
 To dust the shrines of Naith ;t — the serpents hiss 
 On Asia's throne in lorn Persepolis ; 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 The seaweed rots upon the ports of Tyre ; 
 
 On Delphi's steep the Pythian's voice is dumb ; 
 Sad Athens leans upon her broken lyre : 
 
 From the doomed East the Bethlem Star hath come ; 
 But Rome an empire from an empire's loss 
 Gain'' in the god Rome yielded to the Cross. 
 
 LXXXVI. 
 
 And here, as in a crypt, the miser. Time, 
 Hoards, from all else, embedded in the stone, 
 
 One eldest treasure — fresh as when, sublime 
 
 O'er gods and men, Jove thundered from his throne. 
 
 The garb, the arts, the creed, the tongue, the same 
 
 As when to Tarquin Cuma's sybil came. 
 
 * Tlie Etrurian language perished between the age of Augustus and that of Julian. 
 Leitcii's Miiller on Ancient Art, 
 t Naith the Egyptian goddess. 
 
 :^ 
 
 ( 
 
[book lit. 
 
 BOOK III.] 
 
 Kim ARTHUR. 
 
 89 
 
 orn ; 
 
 -hurled 
 
 '; 
 
 I come 
 
 ;hroiie. 
 me 
 
 t of Julian. 
 
 LXXXVII. 
 
 The soil's first fathers, with elaborate hands, 
 Had closed the rocky portals of the place ; 
 
 No egress opens to unhappier lands : 
 As tree on tree, so race succeeds to race. 
 
 From sleep the passions no temptations draw, 
 
 And strife bows childlike to the patriarch's law ; 
 
 IXXXVIII. 
 
 Ambition was not ; each soft lot was cast ; 
 
 Gold had no use ; with war expired renown ; 
 From priest to priest mysterious reverence past ; 
 
 From king to king the mild Saturnian crown ; 
 Like dews, the rest came harmless into birth ; 
 Like dews exhaling — after glad'ning earth. 
 
 LXXXIX. 
 
 Not wholly dead, indeed, the love of praise — 
 
 When can that warmth from heaven forsake the heart 1 
 
 The Hister's* lyre still thrilled with Camsee's lays, 
 Still urn and statue caught the Arretian art, 
 
 And hands, least skilled, found leisure still to cull 
 
 Some flowers, in offering to the Beautiful. 
 
 xo. 
 
 Hence, the whole vale one garden of delight ; 
 
 Hence every home a temple for the Grace ; 
 Who worships Nature finds in Art the rite ; 
 
 And Beauty grows the Genius of the Place. 
 Enough this record of the happy land : 
 Whom watch, whom wait ye for, lovely band ? 
 
 * HiSTER, the Etruscan minstrel.— Camsbe, Camebe, or Camucse, the mythological 
 Bistei of Janus (a national deity of the Etrurians) whose art of song is supposed to iden- 
 tify her with the Camoena or muse of the Latin poets. — " The Arretian art." Arrktium 
 was celebrated for the material of the Etruscan vases. 
 
90 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book hi. 
 
 
 XCI. 
 
 Listen awhile ! — The strength of that soft state, 
 The arch's key-stones, are the priest and king ; 
 
 To guard all power inviolate from debate, 
 To curb all impulse, or direct its wing. 
 
 In antique fonns to mould from childhood all ; — 
 
 This guards more strongly than the Alpine wall : 
 
 XCII. 
 
 The regal chief might wed as choice inclined, 
 Not so the daughters sprung from his embrace, 
 
 Law, strong as caste, their nuptial rite confined 
 To the pure circle of the Lartian race ; 
 
 Hence with more awe the kingly house was viewed, 
 
 Hence nipped ambition bore no rival feud. 
 
 XCIII. 
 
 But now, as on some eldest oak, decay 
 
 In the proud topmost boughs is serely shown ; 
 
 While life yet shoots from every humbler spray — 
 So, of the royal tribe, one branch alone 
 
 Remains ; and all the honours of the race 
 
 Lend their last bloom to smile in uEgl^'s face.* 
 
 xciv. 
 
 The great arch-priest, to whom the laws assign 
 The charge of this sweet blossom from the bud, 
 
 Consults the annals archived in the shrine. 
 
 And, twice before, when failed the Lartian blood. 
 
 And no male heir was found, the guiding page 
 
 Records the expedient of the elder age. 
 
 See note 3 in Api^endix. 
 
>K III. 
 
 BOOK III.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 91 
 
 xcv. 
 
 Rather than yield to subject clans the hope 
 
 That wakes aspiring thought and tempts to strife, 
 
 And, lowering awful reverence, rashly ope 
 The pales that mark the set degrees of life, 
 
 The priest, to whom the secret only known, 
 
 Unlocked the artful portals of the stone -, 
 
 I 
 
 XCVI. 
 
 And watched and lured some wanderer, o'er the steep, 
 
 Into the vale, return for ever o'er ; 
 The gate, like Death's, reclosed upon the keep — 
 
 Earth left its ghost upon the Elysian shore. 
 And what more envied lot could earth provide — 
 The Hesperian gardens and the royal bride 1 
 
 XCVII. 
 
 A priestly tale the simple flock deceived : 
 The gods had care of their Tagetian child ! * 
 
 The nuptial garlands for a god they weaved j 
 A god himself upon the maid had smiled, 
 
 A god himself renewed the race divine. 
 
 And gave new monarchs to the Lartian line. 
 
 . XCVIII. 
 
 Yet short, alas, the incense of delight 
 
 That lulled the new found Ammon of the Hour ; 
 
 Like love's own star, upon the verge of night. 
 Trembled the torch which lit the bridal bower ; 
 
 Soon as a son was born — his mission o'er — 
 
 The stranger vanished to his gods once more. 
 
 * TAQE8— the tutelary sfcnius of the Etrurians. They had a noble legend that Tages 
 appeared to Tarchun, risuig from a furrow beneath his ploup^h, with a man's head and 
 a child's body ; sung the laws destined to regulate the Etrurian colonist, then sunk, and 
 expired. In Ovid's Metamorphoses (xvi. 533) Tages is said to have first taught the 
 Etrurians to foresee the future. 
 
92 
 
 KING ARTHUR, 
 
 [book III. 
 
 XCIX. 
 
 Two temples closed the boundaries of the place, 
 One, vowed to Tina, in its walls concealed 
 
 The granite-portals, by the former race 
 So deftly fashioned, — not a chink revealed 
 
 Where (twice unbarred in all the ages flown) 
 
 The stony donjon masked the door of stone. 
 
 The fane of Mantu* form'd the opposing bound 
 Of the long valley ; where the surplus wave 
 
 Of the main stream a gloomy outlet found. 
 Split on sharp rocks beneath a night of cave. 
 
 And there, in torrents, down some lost ravine 
 
 Where Alps took root — fell heard but never seen. 
 
 01. 
 
 Right o'er this cave the Death-Power's temple rose ; 
 
 The cave's dark vault was curtained by the shrine ; 
 Here by the priest (the sacred scrolls depose) 
 
 Was led the bridegroom when renewed the line; 
 At night, that shrine his steps unprescient trod — 
 And morning came, and earth had lost the god ! 
 
 CII. 
 
 Nine days had now the Augur to the flock 
 
 Announced the coming of the heavenly spouse ; 
 
 Nine days his steps had wandered through the rock, 
 And his eye watched through unfamiliar boughs. 
 
 And not a foot-fall in those rugged ways ! 
 
 The lone Alps wearied on his lonely gaze — 
 
 
 1 <' 
 
 * Mantu, or Mandu, the Etrurian god of the Shades, 
 word. 
 
 Fane is a purely Etruscan 
 
 I 
 
c III. 
 
 BOOK III.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 93 
 
 cm. 
 
 But now this day (thft tenth*) the signal torch 
 Streams from the temple ; the mysterious swell 
 
 Of long-drawn music peals from aisle to porch : — 
 He leaves the bright hall where the -^sarst dwell, 
 
 He comes, o'er flowers and fountains to preside. 
 
 He comes, the god-spouse to the mortal bride — 
 
 CIV. 
 
 
 He comes, for whom ye watched, lovely band, 
 Scatter your flowers before his welcome feet ! 
 
 Lo, where the temple's holy gates expand, 
 
 Haste, ye nymphs, the brightening steps to meet ! 
 
 Why start ye back ? — What though the blaze of steel, 
 
 The form of Mars, the expanding gates reveal — 
 
 I 
 
 truscan 
 
 cv. 
 
 The face, no helmet crowns with war, displays 
 Not that fierce god from whom Etruria fled; 
 
 Cull from far softer legends while ye gaze, 
 
 Not there the aspect mortal maid should dread ! 
 
 Have ye no songs from kindred Castaly 
 
 Of the bright wanderer from the Olympian sky, 
 
 cvi. 
 
 When in Arcadian dells his silver lute 
 
 Hushed in delight the nymph and breathless faun 1 
 Or are your cold Elrurian minstrels mute 
 
 Of him whom Syria worshipped as the Dawn 
 And Greece as fair Adonia ] Hail, hail ! 
 Scatter your flowers, and welcome to the vale ! 
 
 * Ten was a sacred number of the Etrurians, so also was twelve, 
 t iEuARS, the name given collectively to the deities. 
 
 Sxiet. Aug, 97. Dio. Cast. xxvi. p. 689. 
 
94 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book III. 
 
 evil. 
 
 Wondering the stranger moves ! That fairy land, 
 Those forms of dark yet lustrous loveliness, 
 
 That solemn seer, who leads him by the hand ; 
 The tongue unknown, the joy he cannot guess. 
 
 Blend in one marvel every sound and sight ; 
 
 And in the strangeness doubles the delight. 
 
 CVIII. 
 
 Young JEi^h sits within her palace bower, 
 She hears the cymbals clashing from afar — 
 
 So Ormuzd's music welcomed in the hour 
 When the sun hastened to his morning-star. 
 
 Smile, Star of Morn — He cometh from above ! 
 
 And twilight melteth round the steps of Love. 
 
 cix. 
 
 Save the grey Augur, — since the unconscious child 
 Sprang to the last kiss of her dying sire, — 
 
 Those eyes by man's rude presence undefiled. 
 Had deepened into woman's. As a lyre 
 
 Hung on unwitnessed boughs, amidst the shade, 
 
 And but to air, her soul its music made. 
 
 ex. 
 
 Fair was her prison, walled with woven flowers. 
 In a soft isle embraced by softest waters. 
 
 Linnet and lark the sentries to the towers. 
 And for the guard Etruria's infant daughters : 
 
 But stronger far than walls, the antique law. 
 
 And more than hosts, religion's shadowy awe. 
 
 f 
 
 , i 
 
>K III. 
 
 BOOK III.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 95 
 
 
 CXI. 
 
 Thus lone, thus reverenced, the young virgin grew 
 Into the age, when on the heart's calm wave 
 
 The light winds tremble, and emotions new 
 Steal to the peace departing childhood gave ; 
 
 When for the vague Beyond the captive pines, 
 
 And the soul misses what it scarce divintis. 
 
 CXII. 
 
 Lo where she ^its — and blossoms arch the dome — 
 Girt by young handmaids ! — Near and nearer swelling 
 
 The cymbals sounc before the steps that come 
 O'er rose and hyacinth to the bridal dwelling ; 
 
 And clear and loud, the summer air along, 
 
 From virgin voices floats the choral song. 
 
 CXIII. 
 
 Lo where the sacred talismans diff'use 
 Their fragrant charms against the Evil Powers ; 
 
 Lo where young hands the consecrated dews 
 From cusped vervain sprinkle round the flowers. 
 
 And o'er the robe with broidered palm-leaves sown, 
 
 That decks the daughter of the peaceful throne ! 
 
 cxiv. 
 
 Lo, on those locks of night the myrtle crown ; 
 
 Lo where the heart beats quick beneath the veil ; 
 Lo where the lids, cast tremulously down, 
 
 Cloud stars which Eros as his own might hail ; 
 Oh lovelier than End3nnion's loveliest dream, 
 Joy to the heart on which those eyes shall beam ! 
 
96 
 
 KINO ARTHUR. 
 
 [book III. 
 
 oxv. 
 
 The bark comes bounding to the islet shore, 
 The trelliced gates fly back ; the footsteps fall 
 
 Through jasmined galleries on the threshold floor ; 
 And, in the Heart-Enchainer's golden thrall, 
 
 There, spell-bound halt ;— So, first since youth began 
 
 Her eyes meet youth in the charmed eyes of man ! 
 
 cxvi. 
 
 And there. Art's two opposed Ideals rest ; 
 
 There, the twin flowers of the old world bloom forth ; 
 The classic symbol "»f the gentle West, 
 
 And the bold type of the chivalric North. 
 What trial waits thee, Cymriau, sharper here 
 Than the wolfs death-fang or the Saxon's spear 1 
 
 CXVII. 
 
 But would ye learn how he we left afar, 
 
 Girt by the stormy people of the wild. 
 Came to the confines of the Hesperus Star, 
 
 And the soft gardens of the Etrurian child : 
 Would ye, yet lingering in the wondrous vale, 
 Learn what time spares if sorrow can assail ; 
 
 cxvm. 
 
 What there, forgetful of the vanished dove, 
 Lost at those portals, did the King befall ; 
 
 Pause till the hand has tuned the harp to love. 
 And notes that bring young listeners to the hall ; 
 
 And he, whose sires in Cymri reigned, shall sing 
 
 How Tusca's daughter loved the Cymrian King. 
 
 \ 
 
>0K III. 
 
 m 
 
 forth ; 
 
 Book the Fourth. 
 
 ! 
 
 
 I 
 
 H 
 
 I 
 
ARGUMENT. 
 
 Invocation to Love— Arthur, M^{\i, and the Augur— Dialogue between the Cymrian 
 and the Etrurian— Meanwhile Lancelot gaiiiH the scashure, where he meets with the 
 Aloman-priest and hlH hous, and hearu tidings of Arthur— He tells them the tale of his 
 own infancy— Crosses the sea— Lands on the coast of Brettannle— And Is guided bj' the 
 crystal ring in quest of Arthur towards the Al|)s--He finds the King's charger, which 
 Arthur had left without the vaulted passage into the Happy Valley— But the rock-gato 
 being closed, he cannot discover the King, and, wniding by the foot of the Alps round 
 the vallc}', gains a lake and a convent— The story now returns to Arthur and JEg\t— 
 Descriptive stanzas— A raven brings Arthur news from Merlin— The King resolves to 
 quit the valley— He socks and finds the Augur— Dialogue -Parting scene with iEglfi— 
 Arthur follows the Augur towards the fane of the funereal god. 
 
 I 
 
 
 
 1 
 
^^Wk^M^^'Q^ 
 
 Booh Four. 
 
 n the Cymrlan 
 [leets with the 
 the tale of his 
 guided by the 
 charger, which 
 the rock-gato 
 the Alps round 
 jr and jEglS — 
 ;ing resolves to 
 with iEglS— 
 
 I 
 
 1. 
 
 AIL, thou, the ever young, albeit of Night, 
 
 And of primteval Chaos eldest born ; [light, 
 
 Thou, at whose birth broke forth the founts of 
 And o'er Creation flushed the earliest mom ; 
 
 Life, in thy life, suffused the conscious whole ; 
 
 And formlesp matter took the harmonious soul :— 
 
 II. 
 
 Hail, love ! the Death-defyer !• age to age 
 Linking in kinship to the heart of man ; 
 
 Dream to the bard, and marvel to the sage. 
 Glory and mystery since the world began ; 
 
 Shadowing the cradle, brightening at the tomb, 
 
 Soft as our joys, and solemn as our doom ! 
 
 III. 
 
 Ghostlike amidst the unfamiliar Past, 
 Dim shadows flit along the streams of Time ; 
 
 Vainly our learning trifles with the vast 
 
 Unknown of ages : — Like the wizard's rhyme 
 
 We call the dead, and from the Tartarus 
 
 'T is but the dead that rise to answer us : 
 
100 
 
 KING ARTIIUn. 
 
 [book IV. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Voiceless and wan, we question them in vjvin : 
 Tliey leave unsolved eartli's mighty yesterday. 
 
 But wave thy wand — they bloom, they breathe again ! 
 The link is found ! — as we love, so loved they ! 
 
 Warm to our clasp our human brothers start, 
 
 Man smiles on man, and heart speaks out to heart. 
 
 V. 
 
 Arch Power, of every power most dread, most sweet, 
 Ope at thy touch the fair celestial gates ; 
 
 Yet Terror flies with Joy before thy feet. 
 
 And, with the Graces, glide unseen the Fates : 
 
 Eos and Hesperus ; one, with twofold light, 
 
 Bringer of day, and herald of the night. 
 
 VI. 
 
 But lo ! again, where nise upon the gaze 
 The Tuscan Virgin in the Alpine bower, 
 
 The steel-clad wanderer, in his rapt amaze, 
 
 Led thro' the flowerets to that crowning flower : 
 
 Eye meeting eye, as in the blest survey 
 
 Two hearts, unspeaking, breathe themselves away ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 Behind the King, wiih silent ominous gaze 
 On man and maid, the dark-robed Augur sate : 
 
 Thus calm, thus cold, upon the lives it sways 
 Rests the stern aspect of unheeded Fate : 
 
 And setting sunbeams, thro' the blossoms stealing, 
 
 Lit circled Childhood round the Virgin kneeling. 
 
[book IV. 
 
 nooK IV.] 
 
 KING AUTIlUn. 
 
 101 
 
 ) again ! 
 
 eart. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Slow from chaiincd wonder woke at last the King, 
 And the frank mien regained the princely grace. 
 
 Gently he passed amidst the kneeling ring, 
 Knelt with the infants to that downcast face ; 
 
 And on the hand, that thrilled in his to be, 
 
 Pressed the pure kiss of courteous chivalry. 
 
 IX. 
 
 b sweet, 
 
 tes: 
 
 And softening down his hardy mountain tongue. 
 Spoke the knight's homage and the man's delight. 
 
 Is there one common language to the young 
 
 That, with each word more troubled and more bright, 
 
 Stirred the quick blush — as when the south wind heaves 
 Into sweet storm the hush of rosy leaves ?— 
 
 Dwer: 
 away ! 
 
 sate *. 
 
 baling, 
 jling. 
 
 X. 
 
 But now the listening Augur to the side 
 Of Arthur moves ; and, signing silently, 
 
 The handmaid children from the chamber glide, 
 And iEgl6 follows slow, with drooping eye. — 
 
 Then on the King the soothsayer gazed and spoke, 
 
 And Arthur started as the accents broke. 
 
 XI. 
 
 For those dim sounds his mother-tongue express. 
 
 But in some dialect of remotest age ; 
 Like that in which the far Saronides* 
 
 Exchanged dark riddles with the Samian sage. 
 Ghostlike the sounds ; a founder of his race 
 Seemed in that voice the haunter of the place. 
 
 * Sarosidks— the Druids of Gaul: "The Samian Sage"— Pytiiaooras. The Augur 
 is here supiwsed to speak Pl.ocniciati as the parent language of Arthur's native Celtic. 
 Sec Note 1 in Ap[)endix. 
 
FT 
 
 102 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [Book iv. 
 
 XII. 
 
 "Guest," said the priest, with laboured words and slow, 
 " If, as thy language, tho' corrupt, betrays. 
 
 Thou art of those great tribes our records show 
 As the crowned wanderers of untrodden ways, 
 
 Whose eldest god, from pole to pole enshrined, 
 
 Gives Greece her Kronos and her Boudh to Ind ; 
 
 XIII. 
 
 " Who, from their Syrian parent-stem, spread forth 
 Their giant roots to every farthest shore. 
 
 Sires of young nations in the stormy North, 
 
 And slumberous East ; but most renowned of yore 
 
 In purple Tyre ; — if, of Phcenician race. 
 
 In truth thou art, — thrice welcome to this place. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 " Know us as sons of that old friendly soil 
 Whose ports, perchance, yet glitter with the prows 
 
 Of Punic ships, when resting from their toil 
 111 Luna's* gulf, the seabeat crews carouse. 
 
 Unless in sooth (and here he sighed) the day 
 
 Caere foretold hath come to Easena ! " t 
 
 *Luna, a trading town on the gulf of Spezia, said to have been founded by the 
 Etrurian Tarchun. See Strabo, lib. v. Cat. Orig. xxv. In a fragment of Ennius, 
 Luna is mentioned. In Lucan's time it was deserted, " dcscrtae mocnia Lunae." — Lue. 
 i. 686. 
 
 t Rasbna was the 'name which the Etruiians gave to themselves. — Tv'm's Niebuhr, 
 vol. i. c. vii. Mailer, die Etnisker : Dion. i. 30. 
 
 II I 
 
[Book iv. 
 
 md slow, 
 
 !nd ; 
 
 BOOK IV.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 103 
 
 XV. 
 
 " Grave sir," quoth Arthur, piteously perplext, 
 " Or much — forgive me, hath my hearing erred. 
 
 Or of that People quoted in thy text, 
 
 (Perished long since) — but little have I heard : 
 
 Phoenicians ! Tnie, that name is found within 
 
 Our Scrolls ; — they came to Ynys-wen* for tin. 
 
 forth 
 
 of yore 
 
 ce. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 " As for my race, our later bards declare t 
 
 It springs from Brut, the famous Knight of Troy ; 
 
 But if Sir Hector spoke in Welch, I ne'er 
 
 Could clearly learn — meanwhile I hear with joy, 
 
 My native language — pardon the remark — 
 
 Much as it might be spoken in the ark. 
 
 le prows 
 
 founded by the 
 ^ent of Ennlus, 
 nia Lmiffi."— !'««• 
 
 -Tv'sa'a Niebuhr, 
 
 XVII. 
 
 " More would my pleasure be increased to know 
 
 That yon fair lady rivals your own lore 
 In the dear music taught so long ago. 
 
 To Punic traders seeking British shore." 
 " Speak as you ought to speak the maiden can ; 
 O guttural-grumbling and disvowell'd man.":]: 
 
 *Yny8-wen— England, "the White Island." 
 
 t Sir F. Palgrave bids us remark that Talibshiiy, who was a contemporary of Arthur, 
 or nearly so, addresses his countrymen as "the remnant of Trey." — Palgrave's Com- 
 monwealth, vol. i. c. X. p. 328. The Britons no doubt received that legend with many 
 others, to which Welch scholars have too fondly assigned a more remote antiquitj*, 
 from the Romans. 
 
 JThe Etrurian here insinuates a charge very common, but singularly unjust, against 
 the Welch language Want of vowels is certainly not the fault of that tongue, though 
 it must be owned that it often appears so to an uninitiated ear. Owen, in his Welch 
 grammar, proposes to English jaws the following somewhat hard nut to crack — 
 " Owaewawr." Now the Welch w is a vowel answering to our oo, and the word may 
 therefore be written "Qooaeooaoor." Will any candid man say there are not vowels 
 enough there? 
 
I i^ 
 
 104 
 
 KING ARTHUR, 
 
 [book IV. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Keplicd the priest " But, ere I yet disclose 
 The bliss that Northia* singles for your lot, 
 
 Fain would I learn what change the gods impose 
 On the old races and their sceptres ? — what 
 
 The latest news from Rasena ? " — ** With shame 
 
 I own, grave sir, I never heard that name ! " 
 
 XIX. 
 
 The Augur stood aghast ! — " 0, ruthless Fates ! 
 
 Who then rules Italy 1 "— " The Ostrogoth." 
 " The Os— the what ? "— " Except the Papal states ; 
 
 Unless the Goth, indeed, has ravished both 
 The Caesar's throne and the apostle's chair — 
 Spite of the knight of Thrace, — Sir Belisair."t 
 
 XX. 
 
 " But upon this, and all you seek to know 
 Which I, no clerk, though Christian, can relate. 
 
 Occasion meet my sojourn may bestow ; — 
 Now, wherefore, pray you, through yon granite gate 
 
 Have you, with signs of some distress endured. 
 
 And succour sought, my wandering steps allured ?" 
 
 XXI. 
 
 " Pardon, but first, soul-startling stranger," said 
 The slow-recovering Augur — " say if fair 
 
 The region seems to which those steps were led ? 
 And next, the maid to whom you knelt compare 
 
 With those you leave : are hers, in sober truth, 
 
 The charms that fix the roving heart of youth 1" 
 
 * NoRTiiiA, the Etrurian Deity, which correspo: tis with the Fortcnb of the Romans, 
 but probably with something more of he sterner attributes which the Greelt and the 
 Scandinavian gave to the Fates. 
 
 tBelisarius, whose fame was then just rising under Justinian. The Ostrogoth, 
 Theodoric, was on the throne of Italy. 
 
[book IV. 
 
 Ba>K IV.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 105 
 
 »se 
 
 me 
 
 I! 
 
 tates ; 
 
 elate, 
 
 mite gate 
 
 i, 
 ired ]" 
 
 aid 
 
 Bdl 
 
 npare 
 
 bh, 
 
 if 
 
 IB of the Romans, 
 the Greek and the 
 
 The Ostrogoth, 
 
 XXII. 
 
 " Lovelier than all on earth mine eyes have seen 
 Smiles the gay marvel of this gentle realm ; 
 
 Of all earth's beauty that fair maid the queen ; 
 And, might I place h'^r glove upon my helm, 
 
 I would proclaim that truth with lance and shield, 
 
 In tilt and tourney, sole against a field !" 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 " Sith that be so (though what such custom means 
 I rather guess than fully comprehend) 
 
 Answer again ; — if right my reason gleans 
 From dismal harvests, and discerns the end 
 
 To which the Beautiful and Wise have come, 
 
 Hard are the fates beyond our Alpine home : 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 " What makes, without, the chief pursuit of life ) " 
 " War," said the Cymrian, with a mournful sigh : 
 
 " The fierce provoke, the free resist, the strife. 
 The daring perish and the dastard fly ; 
 
 Amidst a storm we snatch our troubled breath, 
 
 And life is one grim battle -field of death." 
 
 XXV. 
 
 " Then here, O stranger, find at last repose ! 
 
 Here, never smites the thunder-blast of war : 
 Here all unknown the very name of foes; 
 
 Here, but with yielding earth men's contests are ; 
 Our trophies — flower and olive, corn and wine : — 
 Accept a sceptre, be this kingdom thine ! 
 
r 
 
 106 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book IV. 
 
 XXVI, 
 
 *' Our queen, the virgin who hath charmed thine eyes — 
 Our laws her spouse, in whom the gods shall send, 
 
 Decree ; the gods have sent thee ; — what the skies 
 Allot, receive : — Here, shall thy wanderings end, 
 
 Here thy woes cease, and life's voluptuous day 
 
 Glide, like yon river through our flowers, away." 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 " Kind sir," said Arthur, gratefully — " such lot 
 Indeed were fair beyond what dreams display ; 
 
 But earth has duties which — " — " Relate them not ! " 
 Exclaimed the Augur — " or at least delay, 
 
 Till better known the kingdom and the bride, 
 
 Then youth, and sense, and nature, shall decide." 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 With that, the Augur, much too wise as yet 
 To hint compulsion, and secure from flight, 
 
 Arose, resolved each scruple to beset 
 
 With all which melteth duty in delight — 
 
 Here, for awhile, we leave the tempted King, 
 
 And turn to him who owns the crystal ring. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Oh, the old time's divine and fresh romance ! 
 
 When o'er the lone yet ever-haunted ways 
 Went frank-eyed Knighthood with the lifted lance. 
 
 And life with wonder charmed adventurous days ; 
 When light more rich, through prisms that dimmed it, shone; 
 And Nature loomed more large through the Unknown. 
 
BOOK IV.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 107 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Nature, not then the slave of formal law ! 
 
 Her each free sport a miracle might be ; 
 Enchantment clothed the forest with sweet awe ; 
 
 Astolfo spoke from out the Bleeding Tree ; 
 The Fairy wreathed his dance in moonlit air ; 
 On golden sands the Mermaid sleeked her hair — 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 Then soul learned more tnan barren sense can teach ; 
 
 (Soul with the sense now evermore at strife) 
 Wherever fancy wandered man could reach — 
 
 And what is now called poetry was life. 
 If the old beauty from the world is fled, 
 Is it that Truth or that Belief is dead ? 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 Not following, step by step, the devious King, 
 But whither best his later steps are gained, 
 
 Moved the sure index of the fairy liug. 
 And since, at least, a moon hath waxed and waned 
 
 What time the pilgrim left the fatherland — 
 
 So tow'rds his fresher footsteps veered the hand. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 And now where pure Sabrina* on her breast 
 Hushes sweet Isca, and, like some fair nun 
 
 That yearns, earth-wearied, for the golden rest. 
 Reflects more clearly on stilled waves the sun. 
 
 As from her wonted borders widening free 
 
 She melts from human sight into the sea ; — 
 
 * Sabrina, the Severn.— Isca, the Usk. 
 
^r= 
 
 108 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book IV. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 Across that ford passed musing Lancelot, 
 
 Then, tow'rds those lovely lands which yet retain 
 
 The Cymrian freedom, rode, and rested not 
 Till, rough on Devon, broke the broadened main. 
 
 Through rocks abrupt, the strong waves force their way, 
 
 Here, inland cleave — there, scoop in curves the bay ; 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 Paused the gocd knight. Rude huts lay far and wide ; 
 
 The dipping sea-gulls wheeled with startled shrielv ; 
 Drawn on the sands lay coracles of hide, * 
 
 And all was desolate ; when tow'rds the creek, 
 Near which he halts, comes loud the plashing oar ; 
 A boat shoots in ; the seamen leap to shore. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 Three were their number, — two in youthful prime. 
 One of mid years ; — tall, huge of limb the three : 
 
 Scarce clad, with weapons of a northw ard clime ; 
 Clubs, spears, and shields — the uncouth armoury 
 
 Of man, while yet the wild beast is his foe : — 
 
 Yet something still the lords of earth may show ; 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 The pride of eye, the majesty of mien. 
 The front erect that looks upon the star ; 
 
 While round each neck the twisted chains are seen 
 Of Teuton chiefs ; — and signs of chiefs they are 
 
 In Cymrian lands — where still the torque of gold 
 
 Or decks the highborn or rewards the bold. 
 
 * The ancient British boats, covered with coria or hides. — " The ancient Britons," 
 as Mr. Pennant observes, "had them of large size, and even made short voyages in 
 them, according to the accounts we receive from Lucan*"— Pennant, vol. i. p. 303 
 
t 
 
 BOOK IV. 
 
 BOOK IV.] 
 
 KING ARTHUll 
 
 109 
 
 am 
 
 kin. 
 
 3ir way, 
 )ay; 
 
 . wide ; 
 irieli: ; 
 
 irj 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 Stern Lancelot frowned ; for in those sturdy forms 
 The Briton's eye tlie Saxon foemen feared. 
 
 " Why come ye hither ? — nor compelled by storms, 
 Nor proffering barter ?" As he spoke they neared 
 
 The noble knight ; — and thus the elder said, 
 
 " Nought save his heart the Aleman hath led ! 
 
 xxxix. 
 
 ** Ere more I answer, say if this the shore 
 
 And thou i le friend of him who owns the dove, 
 
 Arthur the King, — who taught us to adore 
 
 By the man's deeds the God whose creed is love ?" 
 
 Then Lancelot answered, with a moistening eye, 
 
 " Arthur's true knight and lealest friend am L" 
 
 ae, 
 ee: 
 
 ury 
 
 XL. 
 
 With that, he leapt from selle to clasp his hand 
 Who spoke thus gently of the absent one : 
 
 And now behold them seated on the strand, 
 Frank faces smiling in the cordial sun ; 
 
 The absent, there, seemed present ; to unite 
 
 In loving bonds, his converts and his knight. 
 
 een 
 
 ire 
 
 Id 
 
 cient Bi-itons," 
 ort voyages in 
 . i. p. 303 
 
 1 
 
 XLI. 
 
 Then told the Aleman the tale by song 
 Already told — and we resume its flow 
 
 Where the mild hero charmed the stormy throng 
 And twined the arm that sheltered round his foe 
 
 Not meanly conquered but sublimely won — 
 
 Stern Harold vailed his plume to Uther's son. 
 
no 
 
 Kim ARTHUn. 
 
 [book IV. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 The Saxon troop resoiight the Vandal King, 
 And Arthur sojourned with the savage race : 
 
 More easy such rude proselytes to bring 
 
 To Christian truth, than in the wonderous place 
 
 Where now he rests, — proud wisdom he shall find ! 
 
 For Heaven dawns clearest on the simplest mind. 
 
 i\ 
 
 II 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 But when his cause of wrong the Cymrian showed ; 
 
 The heathen foe — the carnage-crimsoned fields ; 
 With one fierce impulse those fierce converts glowed, 
 
 And their wild war-howl chimed with clashing shields ; 
 But by the past's dark history Arthur taught, 
 Refused the aid which Vortigern had sought. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 Yet to the chief, for there at least n'^ fear, 
 And his two sons, a slow consent he gave : 
 
 Showed by the prince the stars by which to steer, 
 They hewed a pine and I'^unched it on the wave ; 
 
 Bringing rough forms but dauntless hearts to swell 
 
 The force that guards the fates of Carduel. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 The story heard, the son of royal Ban 
 
 Questions the paths to which the King was lead. 
 
 " Know," answered Faul (so hight the Aleman,) 
 " That, in our father's days, our warriors spread 
 
 O'er lands wherein eternal summer dwells, 
 
 Beyond the snow-storm's siegelets pinnacles ; 
 
BOOK IV. 
 
 BOOK IV.] 
 
 Kim ARTHUR. 
 
 Ill 
 
 ,co 
 d! 
 
 I. 
 
 ed J 
 
 3; 
 )wed, 
 
 g shields ; 
 
 er, 
 ave ; 
 veil 
 
 Bad. 
 
 ead 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 " And on the borders of those lands, 'tis told, 
 There lies a lake, soroe dead i^eat city's grave, 
 
 Where, when the moon is at her full, behold 
 Pillar and palace shine up from the wave ! 
 
 And o'er the water glideth, still and dark, 
 
 Seen but by seers, a spectre and a bark. 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 " It chanced, as round our fires we sate at night. 
 And saga-runes to wile our watch were sung. 
 
 That with the legends of our father's might 
 And wandering labours, this old tale was strung, 
 
 Then the roused King much questioned ; — what we knew, 
 
 We told, still question from each answer grew : 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 " That night lie slept not, and at morn was gone, 
 With the dove's guidance, where the snow-storms sleep." 
 
 Then Lancelot rose, and led his destrier on, 
 
 And gained the boat, and motioned to the deep, 
 
 His purpose well the Alemen* divine. 
 
 And launch once more the bark upon the brine, 
 
 XIIX. 
 
 And ask to aid — " Know, friends," replied the knight, 
 " Each wave that rolleth smooths its frown for me ; 
 
 My sire and mother, by the lawless might 
 Of a fierce foe expelled, and forced to flee 
 
 From the fair halls of Benoic, paused to take 
 
 Breath for new woes, beside a Fairy's lake. 
 
 * Alcmen as the plural of Aleman must be excused as a poetic licence, for the sake 
 of euphony. Literally ipeaking, it is as .incorrect, as, in familiar speech, Husselmen 
 for the plural of Muaselman. 
 
112 
 
 KINO ARTHUR. 
 
 [book IV. 
 
 L. 
 
 " With them was I, their new-born helpless heir, — 
 
 The hunted exiles gazed afar on home, 
 And saw the giant fires that dyed the air 
 
 Like blood, twine snake-like round the crushing dome. 
 They clung, they gazed — no word by either spoken ; 
 And in that hush the sterner heart was broken. 
 
 LI. 
 
 ' The woman felt the cold hand fail her own ; 
 
 The head that leaned fell heavy on the sod ; 
 She knelt — she kist the lips, — the breath was flown I 
 
 She called upon a soul that was with God : 
 For the first time the wife's sweet power was o'er — 
 She who had soothed till then could soothe no more : 
 
 LII. 
 
 " In the wife's woe, the mother was forgot. 
 
 At last — for I was all earth held of him 
 Who had been all to her, and now was not — 
 
 She rose, and looked, with tearless eyes, but dim, 
 In the babe's face the father still to see ; 
 And lo ! the babe was on another's knee ; — 
 
 LIU. 
 
 " Another's lip had kissed it into sleep. 
 And o'er the sleep another, watchful, smiled ; — 
 
 The Fairy sate beside the lake's still deep, 
 And hushed with chaunted charms the orphan child I 
 
 Scared at the mother's cry, as fleets a dream 
 
 Both Child and Fairy melt into the stream. 
 
BOOK IV. 
 
 BOOK IV.] 
 
 KINO ARTHUll 
 
 113 
 
 ing dome, 
 ken; 
 
 LIT. 
 
 " There, in calm halls of lucent crystalline, 
 Fed by the dews that fell from golden stars, 
 
 But through the lymph I saw the sunbeams shine, 
 Nor dreamed a world ))cyond the glistening spars ; 
 
 And my nurse blest me with the ciiarm that saves 
 
 On stream, on sea — no matter where the waves. 
 
 flown! 
 
 o'er— 
 o more : 
 
 »ut dim, 
 
 led;— 
 
 rphan 
 n 
 
 child 1 
 
 LV. 
 
 " In my fifth year, to Uther's royal towers 
 The Fairy bore me, and her charge resigned. 
 
 My mother took the veil of Christ — the Hours 
 With Arthur's life the orphan's life entwined. 
 
 O'er mine own element my course I take — 
 
 All oceans smile on Lancelot of the Lake !" 
 
 LVI. 
 
 He said, and waved his hand : around the boat 
 
 The curlews hovered, as it shot to sea. 
 The wild men watched it lessening, lessening float, 
 
 Till lost to sight in fading momently ; 
 Then slowly tow'rds the huts they bent their way, 
 And the lone waves moaned up the lifeless bay. 
 
 LVII. 
 
 Pass we the voyage. Hunger-worn, to shore 
 
 Gained man and steed ; there food and rest they found 
 
 In humble roofs. The course resumed once more, 
 The traveller wends o'er no unsmiling ground ; 
 
 Pleased, as he rides by tower and town, to see 
 
 Cymri's old oak rebloom in Brettanie. 
 I 
 
KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book IV. 
 
 LVIIT. 
 
 Nathless, no pause, save such as needful rest 
 Demandeth, stays him in the friendly land. 
 
 Ever obedient to the Seer's behest, 
 
 Onward he speeds as veers the magic hand. 
 
 Howbeit not barren of adventurous days. 
 
 Sweet Danger found him in the devious ways. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 What foes encountered, or what damsels freed — 
 What demon spells in lonely forests braving, 
 
 Leave we to songs yet vocal to the reed 
 On every bank, beloved by poets, waving ; 
 
 Our task reluctant from the muse of old. 
 
 Takes but the tale by nobler bards untold. 
 
 Now, as he journeys, frequent more and more 
 The foot-prints of the steps he tracks are found ; 
 
 Fame, Uke a light, shines broadening on before ; 
 His path, and cleaves the shadows on the ground ; 
 
 High deeds and gentle, bruited near and far, 
 
 Show where that soul went flashing as a star. 
 
 LXI. 
 
 At length he gains the Ausonian Alpine walls ; 
 
 Here, cabtle, convent, town, and hamlet fade ; 
 Lone, through the rolling mists the hoof-tread falls ; 
 
 Lone, earth's mute giants loom amidst the shade j 
 Yet still, as sure of hope, he tracks the king. 
 Up steep, through gorge, where guides the crystal xmft. 
 
 I: 
 
[book 
 
 IV. 
 
 BOOK IV.] 
 
 KING ARTHUn. 
 
 il5 
 
 LXII. 
 
 id. 
 
 One day — along by mist-veiled chasms his course — 
 
 He saw before him indistinctly pass 
 Tlirough the dun fogs, what seemed a phantom horse, 
 
 Like that which oft. amidst the dank morass, 
 Bestrid by goblin-meteor, starts the eye — 
 So fleshless, flitting, wan, and shadowy. 
 
 d— 
 
 re 
 found ; 
 
 ore ; 
 ground ; 
 
 kr. 
 
 Is ; 
 fade ; 
 ead falls ; 
 le shade ; 
 
 crystal nmr- 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 By a bare rock it paused, and feebly neighed, 
 As the good knight, descending, seized the rein ; 
 
 Dew-rusted mail the shrunken front arrayed ; 
 The rich selle rotted with the moulder-stain ; 
 
 And on the selle were slung helm, axe, and mace ; 
 
 And the great lance lay careless near the place. 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 Tlien first the seeker's stricken spirit fell ; 
 
 Too well that helmet, with its dragon crest. 
 Speaks of the mighty owner : and too well 
 
 That steed, so oft by snowy hands carest, 
 When bright-eyed Beauty from the balcon bent 
 To crown the victor-lord of tournament. 
 
 LXV. 
 
 Near and afar he searched — he called in vain, 
 
 By crag and combe, nought answering, and nought seen ; 
 
 Returned, the charger long refused the rein. 
 
 Clinging, poor slave, where last its lord had been. 
 
 At length the slow reluctant hoofs obeyed 
 
 The soothing words ; so went they through the shade : 
 
116 
 
 Kim ARTHUR. 
 
 i ■ 
 
 !! I 
 
 [book IV. 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 Following the gorge that wound the Alpine wall, 
 Like the huge fosse of some Cyclopepn town, — 
 
 While roaring round, invisible cataracts fall, — 
 On the black rocks twilight comes ghostly down. 
 
 And deeper and deeper still the windings go, 
 
 And dark and darker as to worlds below. 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 Night halts the course, resumed at earliest day. 
 Through day pursued, till the last sunbeams fell 
 
 On a broad mere whose margin closed the way. 
 Hark ! o'er the waters swung the holy bell 
 
 From a grey convent on the rising ground, 
 
 Amidst the subject hamlet stretched around. 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 Here, while both man and steeds the welcome rest 
 Under the sacred roof of Christ receive. 
 
 We turn once more to JEgl^ and her guest. 
 Lo ! the sweet valley in the flush of eve ! 
 
 Lo ! side by side, where, through the rose-arcade. 
 
 Steals the love-star, the hero and the maid ! 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 Silent they gaze into each other's eyes, 
 Stirring the inmost soul's unquiet sleep ; 
 
 So pierce soft star-beams, blending wave and skies, 
 Some holy fountain trembling to its deep ; 
 
 Bright to each eye each human heart is bare. 
 
 And scarce a thought to start an angel there. 
 
I 
 
 [book iV. 
 
 BOOK IV.] 
 
 KING ABTHUB. 
 
 117 
 
 til, 
 
 own, 
 
 LS fell 
 
 erest 
 
 rcade, 
 
 LXX. 
 
 Taste while ye may, O Beautiful ! the brief 
 Fruit, life but once wins from the Beautiful ; 
 
 Ripe to the sun it blushes from the leaf, 
 Hear not the blast that rises while ye cull ; 
 
 Brief though it be, how few in after hours 
 
 Can say " at least the Beautiful was ours !" 
 
 JLXXI. 
 
 Two'loves, and both divine and pure, there are ; 
 
 One by the roof-tree takes its roots for ever. 
 Nor tempests rend, nor changeful seasons mar — 
 
 It clings the stronger for the storm's endeavour ; 
 Beneath its shade the wayworn find their rest, 
 And in its boughs the cushat builds her nest. 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 But one more frail, — in that more prized, perchance,- 
 Bends its rich blossoms over lonely streams 
 
 In the untrodden ways of wild Eomance, 
 
 On earth's far confines, like the Tree of Dreams,* 
 
 Few find the path ; — linger, ye that find ! 
 
 'Tis lost for ever when once left behind. 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 d skies, 
 
 e. 
 
 O, the short spring ! — the eternal winter ! — All 
 Branch, — stem all shattered ; fragile as the bloom ! 
 
 Yet this the love that charms us to recall ; 
 Life's golden hcdiday before the tomb ; 
 
 Yea ! this the love which age again lives o'ei , 
 
 And hears the heart beat loud with youth once more ! 
 
 * "In medio ramos," Su:.— Virgil, 1. vi. 282. 
 
 )i 
 
118 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book IV. 
 
 \ il 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 Before them, at the distance, o'er the blue 
 
 Of the sweet waves which girt the roseate isle. 
 
 Flitted light shapes the inwoven alleys thro' : 
 Remotely mellowed, musical the while, 
 
 Floated the hum of voices, and the sweet 
 
 Lutes chimed with timbrels to dim-glancing feet. 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 The calm swan rested on the breathless glass 
 Of dreamy waters, and the snow-white steer 
 
 Near the opposing margin, motionless, 
 
 Stood, knee-deep, gazing wistful on its clear 
 
 And life-like shadow, shimmering deep and far, 
 
 Where on the lucid darkness fell the star. 
 
 LXXVI, 
 
 Near them, upon its lichen-tinted base, 
 Gleamed one of those fair-fancied images 
 
 Which art hath lost — no god of Idan race, 
 
 But the winged symbol which, by Caspian seas. 
 
 Or Susa's groves, its parable addrest 
 
 To the wild faith of Iran's Zendavest.* 
 
 • Zbndavkst. Compare the winged genius of the Etruiians with the Feroh'"* of 
 the Persians, in the sculptured reliefs of Pcrsepolis, (See Heeren's Historical Re- 
 searches, Art. Persians.) Micali, vol. ii. p. 174, points out some points of similarity 
 between the Persian and Etrurian cosmogony. It may be here observed, by the way, 
 that it was peculiar to the Etrurians, amongst the classic nations of Europe, to de- 
 lineate their deities with wings. Even when they borrowed some Hellenic ;rod, they 
 still invested him with this attribute, so especially Eastern. Not less worth noting 
 by students is the resemblance, in many points, between the Scandinavian and Persian 
 mythology. 
 
[book IV. 
 
 BOOK IV.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 119 
 
 isle, 
 
 feet. 
 
 ?er 
 
 ar 
 far, 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 Light as the soul, whose archetype it was, 
 
 The Genius touched, yet spurned the pedestal ; 
 
 Behind, the foliage, in its purple mass. 
 Shut out tho flushed horizon ; circling all, 
 
 Nature's hushed giants stood to guard and girth 
 
 The only home of peace upon the earth. 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 And when, at last, from ^Egl^'s lips, the voice 
 Came soft as murmured hymns at closing day, 
 
 The sweet sound seemed the sweet air to rejoice — 
 To give the sole charm wanting, — to convey 
 
 The crowning music to the Musical ; 
 
 As with the soul of love infusing all ! 
 
 n seas. 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 She spoke of youth's lost years, so lone before, 
 And coming to the present, paused and blushed ; 
 
 As if Time's wing were spell-bound evermore, 
 And Life, the restless, in the hour were hushed : 
 
 The pause, the blush, said, more than words, " and thou 
 
 Art found ! — thou lov'st me ! — Fate is powerless now !" 
 
 ?ith the Feroh'"'- of 
 •en's Historical Re- 
 ! points of similarity 
 served, by the way, 
 is of Europe, to de- 
 3 Hellenic yod, they 
 )t less worth noting 
 linavian and Persian 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 That hand in his — that heart his own entwining 
 With its life's tendrils, — youth his pardoner be. 
 
 If in his heaven no loftier star were shining — 
 If round the haven boomed unheard the sea — 
 
 If in the wreath forgot the thorny crown, 
 
 And the harsh duties of severe renown. 
 
120 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book IV. 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 Blame we as well the idlesse of a dream, 
 As that entranced oblivion from the reign 
 
 Of the Great Curse, which glares in every beam 
 Of labouring suns to the stern race of Cain ; 
 
 So life from earth did Nature here withdraw, 
 
 That the strange peace seemed but earth's common law. 
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 Yet some excuse all stronger spirits take 
 For all repose from toil (to strength the doom) 
 
 How sweet in that fair heathen soil to wake 
 The living palm God planted on the tomb ! 
 
 And so, and long, did Passion's subtle art 
 
 Mask with the soul the impulse of the heart. 
 
 LXXXIII. 
 
 Wonderous and lovely in that last retreat 
 Of the old Gods, — the simple speech to hear 
 
 Tell of the Messenger v/hose beauteous feet 
 Had gilt the mountain-tops with tidings clear 
 
 Of veilless Heaven — while --^gl^, thoughtful, said, 
 
 " Love makes this plain — ^love never can be dead ! " 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 Now, as Night gently deepens round them, while 
 Oft to the moon upturn their happy eyes — 
 
 Still, hand in hand, they range the lulled isle. 
 Air knows no breeze, scarce sighing to their sighs ; 
 
 No bird of nigLi- shrieks bode from drowsy trees, 
 
 Nought lives between them and the Pleiades ; 
 
 ! 
 
 !i| 
 
[book IV. 
 
 BOOK IT.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 121 
 
 a 
 
 men law. 
 
 m) 
 
 ar 
 
 said, 
 ead ! " 
 
 rhile 
 
 r sighs ; 
 •ees, 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 Save where the moth strains to the moon its wing, 
 Deeming the Reachless near ; — the prophet race 
 
 Of the cold stars forewarned them not ; the Ring 
 Of great Orion, who for the embrace 
 
 Of Mom's sweet Maid had died, looked calm above 
 
 The last unconscious hours of human love. 
 
 LXXXVI. 
 
 Each astral influence unrevealing shone 
 
 O'er the dark web its solemn thread enwove ; 
 
 Mars shot no anger from his fatal throne. 
 
 No beam spoke trouble in the House of Love ; 
 
 Their closing path the treacherous smile illumed ; 
 
 And the stern Star-kings kissed the brows they doomed — 
 
 LXXXVII. 
 
 'Tis morn once more ; upon the shelving green 
 Of the small isle, alone the Cymrian stood 
 
 "With his full heart, — when suddenly, between 
 Him and the sun, the azure solitude 
 
 Was broken by a dark and rapid wing. 
 
 And a dusk bird swooped downward tow'rds the King. 
 
 LXXXVIII. 
 
 And the King's ch^ek grew pale, for well to him, 
 (As now the raven, settling, touched his feet,) 
 
 Was known the mystic messenger : where, grim 
 O'er Snowdon's rock -lake,* demon shadows fleet 
 
 Along the bosom of that ghastly mere, 
 
 Where never wings that love the day will steer, 
 
 * Cwn Idwal (in Snowdonia). " A fit placb to inspire murderous thoughts, — environed 
 with horrible precipeces shading a lake lodged in its bottom. The shepherds fable that 
 it is the haunt of demons, and that no bird dare fly over its damned waters.— Pinkant, 
 V. ill. p. 324. 
 
r 
 
 ill 
 
 A 
 
 122 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book IV. 
 
 LXXXIX. 
 
 The Prophet's dauntless childhood strayed and found 
 The weird bird muttering by the waves of dread ; 
 
 Three days and nights upon the haunted ground 
 The raven's beak the solemn infant fed : 
 
 And ever after — so the legend ran — 
 
 The lone bird tended on the lonely man. 
 
 xc. 
 
 O'er the Child's brow prest the last snows of age, 
 As fresh the lustrous ebon of the Bird, — 
 
 Less awe had credulous horror of the sage 
 Than that familiar by the Fiend conferred — 
 
 So thought the crowd ; nor knew what holy lore 
 
 Lives in all things whose instinct is to soar. — 
 
 xci. 
 
 Hoarse croaks the bird, and, with its round bright eye, 
 
 Fixes the gaze of the recoiling King ; 
 Slowly the hand, that trembles, cuts the tie 
 Which binds the white scroll gleaming from the wing. 
 And these the words, " Weak Loiterer from thy toil. 
 The Saxon's march is on thy father's soil." 
 
 XCII. 
 
 Bounded the Prince ! — As when the sudden sun 
 Looses the ice-chains on the halted rill, 
 
 Smites the dumb snow-mass, and the cataracts run 
 In molten thunder down the clanging hill. 
 
 So from his heart the fetters burst ; and strong 
 
 In its rough course the great soul rushed along. 
 
 fj 
 
[book IV. 
 
 BOOK IV.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 123 
 
 d found 
 dread ; 
 iiid 
 
 XCIII. 
 
 age, 
 
 lore 
 
 wight eye, 
 
 the wing, 
 thy toil, 
 
 sun 
 
 ;ts run 
 
 ong 
 )ng. 
 
 As looks a warrior on the fort he scales, 
 
 Sweeps his broad glance around the eternal steeps — 
 Not there escape : — the wildest fancy quails 
 
 Before those heights on which the whitening deeps 
 Of measureless heaven repose : — below their frown. 
 Planed as a wall, sheers the smooth granite down. 
 
 xciv. 
 
 Marvel, indeed, how ev'n the enchanted wing 
 Had o'er such rampires won to the abode ; 
 
 But not for marvel paused the kindled King, 
 Swift, as Pelides stung to war, he strode ; 
 
 While the dark herald, with its sullen scream, 
 
 Eose, and fled, dismal as an evil dream. 
 
 xcv. 
 
 Carved as for Love — a slender boat rocked o'er 
 The ripple with the murmuring marge at play. 
 
 He loosed its chain, he gained the adverse shore, 
 Startled the groups that fluttered round his way. 
 
 Awed by the knitted brow and flashing eye? 
 
 Of him they deemed the native of the skies. 
 
 xcvi. 
 
 Tow'rds the far temple, thro* whose tomb-like door 
 First he had passed into the Elysian Land, 
 
 He strode — when suddenly, he saw before 
 
 His path the seated priest ; — with earnest hand 
 
 Turning strange-lettered scrolls upon his knee ; 
 
 While o'er him spread the platan's murmuring tree :- 
 
T 
 
 r 
 
 124 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book IV. 
 
 XCVII. 
 
 On his mysterious leisure broke the cry 
 Of the imperious Northman, "Rise, unbar 
 
 Your granite gates — the eagle seeks the sky, 
 The captive freedom, and the warrior war !" 
 
 Slow rose the Augur, and this answer gavj, 
 
 " Man, see thy world — its outlet is the grave ! 
 
 XCVIII. 
 
 " What ! dost thon think us so in love with fear. 
 That of our peace we should confide the key 1 
 
 Tina hath closed the gates of Janus here. 
 Shall we expand them 1 — never !" Scornfully 
 
 He turned — but thrilled with priestly wrath to feel 
 
 His sacred arm lockt in a grasp of steel. 
 
 xcix. 
 
 " Trifle not, host, — Fate calls me to depart ; 
 
 On my shamed soul a prophet's voice hath cried ; 
 Thy secret ! — that is safer in the heart 
 
 Of a true Man than in an Alp."—" Thy bride ?" 
 Said the pale Augur — " A true man, forsooth ! 
 What says wronged -^gl^, boaster, of thy truth ?" 
 
 c. 
 
 " Let -^gl6 answer," cried the noble lover ; 
 
 " Let -^gl^ judge the trust I hold from Heaven. 
 I faithless ! — I ! a King t — my labours over. 
 
 From mine own soil the surge of carnage driven, 
 And I will come, as kings should come, to claim 
 Queens for their throne, and partners in their fame !" 
 
 V^ 
 
BOOK IV.] 
 
 Kim ARTHUR. 
 
 125 
 
 [book IV. 
 
 UI. 
 
 Long musod the Augur, and at length replied, 
 His guile scarce masked in his malignant gaze, 
 
 "Well, guest — thy fate thine -^gl6 shall decide — 
 Then, if still wearied of untroubled days — 
 
 No more from Mantu Pales shall controul* 
 
 And one free gate shall open on thy soul !" 
 
 on. 
 
 He said, and drew his large robe round his form, 
 And wrathful swept along, as o'er the sky 
 
 A cloud sweeps dark, secret with hoarded storm ; 
 Behind him went the guest as silently ; 
 
 Afar the gazing wonderers whispered, while 
 
 They crossed the girdling wave and reached the isle. 
 
 CIII. 
 
 With violet buds, bright M^^y in her bower, 
 Knits the dark riches of her lustrous hair ; 
 
 Her heart springs eager to the appointed hour 
 When to loved eyes 'tis glorious to be fair; 
 
 Gleams of a neck, proud as the swan's, escape 
 
 The light- spun tunic rounded to the shape ; 
 
 CIV. 
 
 Now from the rocks the airy veil dividing 
 Falls and floats perfumed by the violet crown. 
 
 What happy thought is in that breast presiding 
 Like some serenest bird which settles down, 
 
 Its wanderings over, on calm summer eves 
 
 Into its nest, amid the secret leaves ? 
 
 * Mantu, the Qod of the Shades^Palea, the Pastoral Deity. 
 
I2r> 
 
 KtNG AUTJItUl 
 
 BOOK IV. 
 
 cv. 
 
 What happy tliouglit in those large tranquil eyes 
 Seems i)re8cicnt of the eternity of love 1 
 
 The fixed content in conquered destinies 
 Which makes the being of the lives above, 
 
 When resting side by side no more to sever, 
 
 Soul whispers soul, " This Present is for ever." 
 
 cvi. 
 
 Who has once gazed on perfect happiness, 
 Nor felt it as the shadow cast from God ? 
 
 It seems so still in its divine excess, 
 
 So brings all heaven around its hushed abode, 
 
 That in its very beauty awe has birth, 
 
 Dismayed by too much glory for the earth. 
 
 cvii. 
 
 Across the threshold now abruptly strode 
 
 Her youth's stern guardian. " Child of Rasena," 
 
 He said, " the lover on thy youth bestowed 
 For the last time on earth thine eyes survey. 
 
 Unless thy power can chain his faithless breast, 
 
 And sated bliss deigns gracious to be blest." 
 
 CVIII. 
 
 " Not so ! " cried Arthur, as his loyal knee 
 Bent to the earth, and with the knightly truth 
 
 Of his right hand he clasped her own ; — " to be 
 Thine evermore ; youth mingled with thy youth, 
 
 Age with thine age ; in thy grave mine ; above, 
 
 Spirit beside thy spirit ; this the love 
 
DOOK IV.] 
 
 KING AUTIlUn. 
 
 127 
 
 CIX. 
 
 "God teacheth man to pray for ! Oft, the wliile 
 I spoke of knightliood, thou hast praised its vow, 
 
 * Faith without stain, and honour witliout f^uile. 
 To guard.' Sweet lady, trust to Knighthood now ! " 
 
 Hurrying his words nished on ; the threatened land, 
 
 The fates confided to the sceptred hand. 
 
 ex. 
 
 Here gathering woes, and there suspended toil ; 
 
 And the stern warning from the distant seer : — 
 " Thine be my people — thine this bleeding soU ; 
 
 Queen of my realm, its groaning murmurs hear ! 
 Then ask thyself, what manhood's choice should be ; 
 False to my country, were I worthy thee 1 " 
 
 CXI. 
 
 Dim thro^^gh her struggling sense the light came slow, 
 Struck from those words of fire. Alas, poor child ! 
 
 What, in thine isle of roses, shouldst thou know 
 Of earth's grave duties ? — of that stormy wild 
 
 Of care and carnage — that relentless strife 
 
 Of man with happiness, and soul with life 1 
 
 CXII. 
 
 Thou, who hadst seen the sun but rise and set 
 O'er one Saturnian Arcady of rest, 
 
 Snatcht from the Age of Iron ? Ever, yet. 
 Dwells that high instinct in each nobler breast, 
 
 Which truth, like light, intuitive receives. 
 
 And what the reason grasps not, faith believes. 
 
138 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book IV. 
 
 CXIII. 
 
 So in mute woe, one hand to his resigned, 
 And one pressed firmly on her swelling heart. 
 
 Passive she heard, and in her labouring mind 
 
 Strove with the dark enigma — " Part ! — to part ! " 
 
 Till, having :• Ived it by the beams thi\t broke 
 
 From that clear s«ju1 on hers, struggling she spoke : — 
 
 cxiv. 
 
 " Trust — trust in thee ! — but no, I will not weep : 
 What thou deem'st good is the sole good to me. 
 
 Let my heart break, before thy heart it keep 
 
 From aught, which lost, could gi vq a pang to thee. 
 
 Thou speak'st of dread and terror, strife and woe ; 
 
 And I might wonder why they tempt thee so ; 
 
 cxv. 
 
 " And I might a^^k how more can mortals please 
 The heavens, than thankful to enjoy the earth ; 
 
 But through its mist my soul, though faintly, sees 
 Where thine sweeps on beyond this mountain-girth. 
 
 And, awed and dazzled, bending I confess 
 
 Life may have holier ends than happiness. 
 
 cxvi. 
 
 " For something bright and high thyself without, 
 Thou makest thy heart an offering ; so my heart 
 
 Could sacrifice to thee ! Then wherefore doubt. 
 There are to thy soul what to mine thm art % " 
 
 She paused, and raised her earnest eyes above. 
 
 Bright with the trust devotion breathes in love : 
 
[book IV. 
 
 BOOK IV.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 129 
 
 leart, 
 
 ad 
 
 to part ! " 
 
 B spoke : — 
 
 i weep : 
 L to me. 
 ep 
 
 ng to thee. 
 ,nd woe ; 
 so ; 
 
 please 
 
 earth ; 
 tly, sees 
 ttntain-girth, 
 
 without, 
 my heart 
 
 doubt. 
 
 art 1 " 
 ,bove, 
 m love : 
 
 CXVII. 
 
 Then, as she felt his tears upon her hand, 
 
 Earth called her back ; — o'er him her face she bowed : 
 As when the silver gates of heaven expand, 
 
 And on the earth descends the melting cloud, 
 So sunk the spirit from sublimer air, 
 And all the woman rushed on her despair. 
 
 CXVIII. 
 
 " To lose thee — oh, to lose thee ! To live on 
 And see the sun — not thee ! Will the sun shine. 
 
 Will the birds sing, flowers bloom, when thou art gone 1 
 Desolate, desolate ! Thy right hand in mine, 
 
 Swear, by the Past, thou wilt return ! — Oh, say, 
 
 Say it again ! " — voice died in sobs away ! 
 
 cxix. 
 
 Mute looked the Augur, with his deathful eyes. 
 On the last anguish of their lockt embrace. 
 
 " Priest," cried the lover, " canst thou deem this prize 
 Lost to my future ? — No, tho' round the place 
 
 Yon Alps took life, with all the fell array 
 
 Of your false gods, Love would to Love force way. 
 
 cxx. 
 
 " Hear me, adored one ! " On a silent ear 
 The promise fell ; o'er an unconscious frame 
 
 Wound the protecting arm. — " Since neither fear 
 Of the great Powers thou dost blaspheming name, 
 
 Nor the soft impulse native in man's heart 
 
 Restrains thee, doomed one — hasten to depart. 
 
130 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book IV. 
 
 CXXI. 
 
 " Come, in thy treason merciful at least, 
 
 Come, while those eyes by Sleei^, the Pityer, bound, 
 See not thy shadow pass from earth ! " — The Priest 
 
 Spoke, — and now called the infant handmaids round ; 
 But o'er that form, with arms that vainly cling. 
 And words that idly comfort, bends the King. 
 
 CXXII. 
 
 ; I 
 
 v1 / 
 
 <( 
 
 N?^y, nay, look up ! It is these arms that fold ; — 
 I «till am here ; this hand, these tears, are mine," 
 Then, when they sought to loose her from his hold, 
 He waved them back with a fierce jealous sigr. : 
 O'er her husht breath his listening ear he bowed 
 And the awed children round him wept aloud. 
 
 CXXIII. 
 
 But when the soul broke faint from its eclipse. 
 And his own name came, shaping life's first sigh, 
 
 His very heart seemed breaking in the lips 
 
 Prest to thofee faithful ones ; — then, tremblingly, 
 
 He rose ; — he moved ; — he paused ; — his nerveless hand 
 
 Veiled the dread agony of man unmanned. 
 
 cxxiv. 
 
 Thus, from the chamber, as an infant meek. 
 
 The Priest's weak arm led forth the mighty King ; 
 
 In vain wide air came fresh upon his cheek 
 Passive he went in his great sorrowing ; 
 
 Hate, the mute guide, — the waves of death, the goal, — 
 
 So, following Hermes, glides to Styx a soul. 
 
[book IV. 
 
 rer, bound, 
 B Priest 
 laids round ; 
 ing, 
 
 . fold ;— 
 :e mine." 
 liis hold, 
 IS sigL : 
 >owed 
 )ud. 
 
 Booh the Fifth, 
 
 ipse, 
 first sigh, 
 
 ■i 
 
 3 
 
 aiblingly, 
 ierveles!5 hand 
 
 k, 
 
 ghty King ; 
 
 jk 
 
 th, the goal,- 
 )ul. 
 
ARGUMENT. 
 
 The Council-hall in Carduel— Merlin warns the chiefs of the coming Saxons, and en- 
 joins the beacon fires to be lighted — The story returns to Arthur — The dove has not been 
 absent, though unseen— It comes back to Arthur— The priest lea<Is the King through the 
 sepulchral valley into the temple of the Death-god- -Description of the entrance of the 
 temple, with the walls on which is depicted the progress of the guilty soul through the 
 realms below — The cave, the raft, and the stream which conducts to the cataract - 
 Arthur enters the boat, and the dovo goes before him — jEgl6 awakes from her swoon, 
 and follows the King to the temple — Her dialogue with the Augur— She disappears in 
 the stream — Meanwhile Lancelot wanders in the valleys on the other side of the Alps, 
 and is led to the cataract by the magic ring — The ap]mrition of the dove— He follows 
 the bird up the skirts of the cataract— He finds Arthur and ^gl6, and convej's them to 
 the convent— The Etrurian dirge, and the Christian hjmn- Arthur and Lancelot seated 
 by the lake— The Lady of the Lake a])pearH in her pinnace to I^ancelot— The King's 
 aight is purged from his fllm by the bitter herb, and he enters the magic bark. 
 
 n I 
 
 !l 
 
Booh Fiue. 
 
 I. 
 
 N the high Council Hall of Carduel, 
 
 Beside the absent Arthur's ivory throne, 
 What time the earlier shades of evening fell, 
 
 Wan-silvering through the hush, the cresset shone 
 O'er the arcli seer, — as, mid the magnates there. 
 Rose his large front august with prophet care ; 
 
 II. 
 
 Rose his large front above the luminous guests, 
 The deathless twelve of that Heroic Ring, 
 
 Which, as the belt wherein Orion rests, 
 Girded with subject stars the starry king ; 
 
 Without, strong towers guard Rome's elaborate wall ; 
 
 Within is Manhood ! — strongest towex of all. 
 
 III. 
 
 On the bright group the Prophet rests his gaze. 
 Then the deep voice sonorous thrills aloud — 
 
 " In Carduel's vale the steers unheeded graze. 
 To jocund winds the yellowing corn is bowed, 
 
 By hearths of mirth the waves of Isca flow. 
 
 And Heaven above smiles down on peace below. 
 
134 
 
 KING ARTHUR 
 
 [book v. 
 
 :s 
 
 IV. 
 
 " But far looks forth the warder from the tower, 
 And to the halls of Cymri's antique khigs 
 
 A soul that sees the future in the hour 
 The desolation of its burthen brings ; 
 
 Hollow sounds earth beneath the clanging tread : 
 
 Yon fields shall yield no harvest but the Dead ! 
 
 V. 
 
 " And waves shall rush in crimson to the deep, 
 The Meteor Horse shall pale autumnal skies — 
 
 From Rauran's* lairs the joyous wolves shall leap — 
 From ElFLE'st crags the screaming eagles rise — 
 
 Yea ! while I speak, these halls the havoc nears ; 
 
 Red sets the sun behind the storm of spears. 
 
 VI. 
 
 " The Sons of Odin sound no tromp before 
 
 Their march : No herald comes their war to tell : 
 No plea for slaughter, dressed in clerkly lore, 
 Makes death seem justice ! As the rain-clouds swell, 
 When air is stillest, in Bal-Huan's:{: halls ; 
 The herbage waves not till the tempest falls ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 " Of old ye know them ; ye the elect remains 
 
 Of perished races — rock-saved ; mooring here 
 
 The ark of empire ! 
 
 For your latest fanes. 
 
 For your last hearths, for all to freemen dear. 
 
 And to God sacred ; take the shield and brand : 
 
 Accurst each Cymrian who survives his land !" 
 
 * Aran -called Rauran by Spenser, who makes it the [)lace of Arthur's education 
 under Timon : 
 
 •• Under the foot of Rauran nioissy hore." 
 t More correctly Yr Eifl, or Reifel, in Carnarvonshire. 
 
 t The Sun, 
 
BOOK v.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 135 
 
 VIII. 
 
 " Accurst each Cymrian who survives his land !" 
 Echoed deep tones, hollow as blasts escaped 
 
 From Boreal caverns, and in every hand 
 
 The hilts of swords to sainted croziers shaped 
 
 Were grimly griped — as by that symbol sign 
 
 Hallowing the human wrath to war divine. 
 
 IX. 
 
 The Prophet marked the deep unclamorous vow 
 Of the pent passion ; and the morning light 
 
 Of young Humanity flashed o'er the brow 
 
 Dark with that wisdom which, like Nature's night. 
 
 Communes with stars and dreams ; it flashed and waned, 
 
 And the vast front its awful hush regained. 
 
 X. 
 
 " Princes, 1 am but as a voice ; be you 
 
 As deeds ! The wind cleaves through the hollow oak, 
 And stirs the green wood that it wanders through. 
 
 Now wafts the seeds, now wings the levin stroke. 
 Now kindles, now destroys ; — that wind am I, 
 Homeless on earth ; the mystery of the sky ! 
 
 XI. 
 
 " But when the wind into void space hath sunk, 
 Behold the sower tends and rears the seeds ; 
 
 Behold the woodman shapes the fallen trunk ; 
 The airy voice hath waked the human deeds ; 
 
 Born of the germs, flowers bloom and harvests spring ; 
 
 The pine uprooted speeds the Ocean King. 
 
 Arthur's education 
 
136 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book v. 
 
 liJ ! 
 
 XII. 
 
 " Warriors, since absent, (not from wanton lust 
 Of arrant emprize, but by Fate ordained, 
 
 For all lone-labouring, worthy of his trust) 
 
 He whose young lips, m thirst of glory, drained 
 
 All tbat of martial arts their mistress, Rome, 
 
 Taught to assail the foo, or guard the ho^ne ; 
 
 xii^. 
 
 '' ^^ ye his delegates, and oft with prayer 
 
 Bring angels round his wild and venturous way ; 
 
 As one great orb gives life and light to air. 
 So times there are when all a people's day 
 
 Shines from a single life ; This known, revere 
 
 The exile ; mourn not — let his soul be here. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 " Yorrs then, high chiefs, the conduct of the war. 
 But heed this counsel, won or wrung from Fate, 
 
 Strong rolls the tide wiien curbed its channels are. 
 Strong flows the force that but defends a state ; 
 
 In Carduel's walls concentre Cymri's power. 
 
 And chain the dragon to his charmed tower. 
 
 XV. 
 
 " This night the moon should see the beacon brand 
 Link fire to fire from Beli's Druid pile ; 
 
 Rock call on rock, till blazes all the land 
 From Sabra's Mave to Mona's parent isle ! 
 
 Let Freedom write in characters of fire, 
 
 *Who climbs my throne ascends his funeral pyi-e !'" 
 
 I, ' 
 
[book v. 
 
 BOOK v.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 137 
 
 XVI. 
 
 The Prophet ceased ; and rose with stern accord 
 The warrior senate. Sudden every shield 
 
 Leapt into lightning from the clashing sword ; 
 And choral voices consentaneous pealed — 
 
 " Hail to our guests ! the wine of war is red ; 
 
 Fire, light the banquet — steel, prepare the bed !" 
 
 XVII. 
 
 While thus the peril threatening land and throne, 
 Unarmed, unheeding, dreaming, goes the King, 
 
 Where from the brief Elysium, Acheron 
 
 Awaits the victim which its priest shall bring. 
 
 And where art thou, meek guardian of the brave ? 
 
 Though fails tlie eagle, still the dove may save. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 When, lured by signs that seemed his aid to implore. 
 From his good steed the lord of knighthood sprung, 
 
 Xwdi left it wistful by the dismal door. 
 
 Since the cragg'd roof too low descending hung 
 
 For the great war-horse in its barbed array ; 
 
 And little dreamed he of the long delay ; 
 
 XIX. 
 
 His path the dove nor favoured nor forbade ; 
 
 Motionless, folding on sharp ro'-ks its wing, 
 And watching with soft eyes, resigned and sad, 
 
 Where fates, ordained for sorrow, led the King ; 
 Nor did he miss, till earth regained the day, 
 The plumed guardian vanisht from his way. 
 
i 
 
 138 
 
 KING ART I III 11. 
 
 [book v. 
 
 1 1 
 
 XX. 
 
 Thdii oft, ill tiutli, yea oil in blissful hours, 
 
 MisHod was that faithful guide through stormier life. 
 
 Ah common lot ! how oft, mid summiu' fl(jwers. 
 We miss the soother of the winter strife ; 
 
 How oft we mourn in Fortune's sunlit vale 
 
 Some silenced heart with which wo shared the gale ! 
 
 XXI. 
 
 But absent 7iot the dove, albeit unseen ; 
 
 In some still foliage it had found its nest : 
 At night it hovered where his steps had been, 
 
 Pale through the moonbeams in the air of rest ; 
 By the lulled wave and shadowy banks it past. 
 Lingering where love with ^gle lingered last. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 And when with chiller dawn resought the lone 
 And h'ufy gloom in which it shunned the day. 
 
 Beneath those Ijoughs you might have heard it moan, 
 Low-wailing to itself its plaintive lay ; 
 
 Till with the 8un rose all the songs that till 
 
 Morn with delight ; and then the dove was still. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 But now, as toA''rds the Temple of the Shades 
 The King went heavily — a gleam of light 
 
 Shot through the gloaming of the; cedarn glades. 
 And the dove glidcMl to his breast : the sight 
 
 Came like a smile from heaven upon the King, 
 
 And his heart warmed beneath the brooding Aving. 
 
BOOK V.J 
 
 A7A.; ART nun. 
 
 139 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Str<aTig(^ was the tliiill of joy, ])eyoii(l bolief, 
 
 Sent from tue soft toucli of those plumes of <lown : 
 
 He was not all deserted in his grief, 
 The })rows of Fate relaxed their iron frown ; 
 
 And his soul (juickened to that glorious power 
 
 Which fronts the future and subdues the hour. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 The hope it brought— nt)t seemed the dove to share, 
 
 As if it felt the tempest in the sky, 
 Tremlding, it nestled to its shelter there, 
 
 Nor lifted to the light its drooping eye, 
 Not, as its wont, to guide it came ; but brave 
 With him the 'Us from which it could not save. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Now lost the lo« 'lier featuies of the land. 
 
 Dull waves replace the fount, dark pines the bowers, 
 
 Grey-streeted tombs, far stretched on either hand, 
 liear the dumb city of the Funeral Powers. 
 
 Massive and hugeous looms the dome of dread. 
 
 Where the stern Death-god frowns above th ; dead. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 Hewn from a rock, stand the great cohimns square, 
 With triglyphs wrought and ponderous pediment ; 
 
 Such as yet gre(;t the musing wanderer where. 
 Near the old Fane to which Pitruria sent 
 
 Her sovereign twelve, the thick-sown violet blooms. 
 
 In Caste! d'Asso's vale of hero-tomljs.'*' 
 
 *Castel d'Asso (Uie CnHtclluin Axia, in Cicero), t)io iiaine now f,nvcn to the valleys 
 near Viterbo, which formed the yroat hiirial-j)Iae(; of the Etrurians Near these vallej's, 
 and, lut some suppose, on the site of Vitcrho, was Volfannia (Fanuni Voltinnna)), at 
 which the twelve sovereigns of the twelve dynasties, and the other chiefs of the Etru- 
 riaiis, met in the spring of every year. Views of the rock-temples at Norchea. in this 
 neighbourhood, are to V)e seen in Fn'^hiranii's Etrusc. Antiq. 
 
uo 
 
 KING AHTIIUR. 
 
 [U(M)K V. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 Passing a bridge that apanne*! the barrier wave, 
 
 They reach the Thebes-like porcli ; — the Augur here 
 
 FirHt entering, leaves tlie King. Witliiii the nave 
 Nor swell the flutes — which went before the bier 
 
 What time the funeral chauiit of Pagan Kome 
 
 Hymned glorious ghosts to Pluto's sunless home. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Back jar the portals — long, in measured line, 
 There, stand within the mute Aruspices, 
 
 In each pale hand a torch ; and near the shrine 
 Sit on still thrones, the guardian deities ; 
 
 Here Sethlans,* sovereign of life's fixed domains — 
 
 There fatal NORTHIA with the iron chains. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 
 Between the two the Death-god broods sublime ; 
 
 On his pale brow the inexorable peace 
 Which speaks of power beyond the shores of time ; 
 
 Calm, not benign like the sweet gods of Greece, 
 Calm as the mystery which, in Memphian skie 
 Froze life's wann current from a sphinx's eyes. 
 
 es. 
 
 xxxr. 
 
 With many a gi'isly shape ineffable, 
 
 Limned were the cavernous seimlchral walls ; 
 
 Life-like they stalked, the Populace of Hell, 
 Through the pale pomp of Acherontian halls ; 
 
 Distinct as when the Trojan's living breath, 
 
 Vexed the wide silence in the wastes of aeath. 
 
 * Sethlans, the Etrurian Vulcan. He appears sometimes to assume the attributes of 
 Terminns, though in a higher and more ethereal sense— presiding over the bounds of 
 as Termnius over those of the land. 
 
BOOK v.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 141 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 Shown was the progress of the guilty soul 
 
 From earth's warm tlireshold to the throne of doom ; 
 
 Hero the black Genius to the dismal goal 
 
 Dragged the wan spectre from the unsholtering tomb ; 
 
 While from the side it never more may warn 
 
 The better angel, sorrowing, fled forlorn. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 Hideous with horrent looks and goading steel 
 The fiend drives on the abject cowering ghost 
 
 Where (closed the eighth) sev'n yawning gates reveal 
 The sev'nfold anguish that awaits the Lost ; 
 
 By each the gryphon ftaps his ravening wings, 
 
 And dire Chimjera whets its hungry stings. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 Here, ev'n that God, of all the kindliest one. 
 
 Life of all life (in Tusca's later creed. 
 Blent with the orient worship of the Sun, 
 
 Or His who loves the madding nymphs to lead 
 On the Forked Hill) — abjures his genial smile,* 
 And, scowls transformed, the Typhon of the Nile. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 Closed the eighth gate — for there, the Happy dwell : 
 No glimpse of joy beyond makes horror less. 
 
 But that closed gate upon the exiled Hell 
 Sets Hell's last seal of misery — Hopelessness. 
 
 Natheless, despite the Demon's chasing thong. 
 
 Here, as if hoping stiii, the hopeless throng. + 
 
 * Tinia, the Etrurian Bacchus (son of Tina), identiflcd symbolically with the god of 
 the infernal regions In the funeral monuments he sometimes assumes the moat fear- 
 ful aspect. 
 
 fThe above description of the Etrurian Hades, with its eight gates, is taken in each 
 detail from vases of funeral monuments, mobt of which are described by Micali. 
 
142 
 
 KING ARTIWIL 
 
 [book v. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 Before the no' thern knight each nightmare dream 
 Of Theban soothsayer or Chaldaean mage, 
 
 Thus kindling in the torches' hirid beam, 
 As if incarnate with resistless rage, 
 
 And hell's true raplice, starts from wall to wall ; 
 
 He signs the cross, and looks unmoved on all. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 Before the inmost Penetralian doors, 
 
 Holding a cypress branch, th(} Augur stands ; 
 
 The King's firm foot strides echoless the floors, 
 And with dull groan the temple veil expands ; 
 
 Advance the torches, and their shaken shine 
 
 Glares o'er the wave that yawns behind the shrine :- 
 
 -'& 
 
 (i > 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 Glares o'er the wave, as, under vaulted rock, 
 All falsely smooth, the reddened surface flows ; 
 
 But where the light fades — there is heard ihe shock 
 As hurrying on the headlong torrent goes ; 
 
 With mocking oars — a raft sways, moored beside. 
 
 What keel save Charon's ploughs that dismal tide ? 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 Proud Arthur smiled upon the guileful host, 
 
 As welcome danger roused him and restored. — 
 " Friend," quoth the King, "methinks your streams might boast 
 A gentler margin and a fairer ford." 
 " As birth to man," replied the Priest, " the cave, 
 guest, to thee ; as death to man the wave 
 
 I 
 
 I i 
 
BOOK v.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 143 
 
 XL. 
 
 " Doth it appal thee ? thou canst yet return ! 
 
 There love, there sunny life ; — and yonder" — " Fame. 
 Cymri, and God !" said Arthur. " Paj'^nim, learn 
 
 Death has two victors, deathless both — THE Name, 
 The Soul ; — to each a realm eternal given, 
 This rules the earth, and that achieves the heaven." 
 
 
 XLI. 
 
 He said, and seized a torch with scornful hand ; 
 
 The frail raft rocked to his descending tread ; 
 Upon the prow he fixed the glowing brand. 
 
 And the raft drifted down the waves of dread. 
 So with his fortunes went confiding forth 
 The knightly Caesar of the Christian North. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 Then, from its shelter on his breast, the dove 
 Rose, and sailed slow before with doubtful wing ; 
 
 The dun mists rolling round the vaults above. 
 Below, the gulf with torch-fires crimsoning ; 
 
 Wan through the glare, or white amidst the gloom, 
 
 Glanced Heaven's mute daughter with the silver plume. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 Meanwhile to -^gl4 : from the happier trance. 
 And from the stun of the first human ill 
 
 Labouring returns the soul ! — As lightnings glance 
 O'er battle fields, with sated slaughter still. 
 
 The fitfil reason flickering comes and goes 
 
 O'er the past struggle — o'er the blank repose. 
 
i 
 
 if 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 144 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book v. 
 
 XLIV, 
 
 At length with one long, eager, searching look, 
 She gazed around, and all the living space 
 
 With one great loss seemed lifeless ! — then she strook 
 Her clencht hand on her heart ; and o'er her face 
 
 Settled ineffable that icy gloom. 
 
 Which only falls when hope abandons doom. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 Why breaks the smile — why waves the exulting hand ? 
 
 Why to the threshhold moves that step serene ? 
 The brow superb awes back the maiden band, 
 
 From the roused woman towers sublime the queen. 
 Past bower, past isle — the dazzled crowds survey 
 That pomp of beauty burst upon the day. 
 
 XL VI. 
 
 Brief and imperious rings her question ; quick 
 A hundred hands point, answering, to the fane. 
 
 As on she sweeps, behind her, fast and thick. 
 Gather the groupes far following in her train. 
 
 Behind some bird unknown, of glorious dyes, 
 
 So swarm the meaner people of the skies. 
 
 XL VII. 
 
 ..L, is 
 
 O, the great force that sleeps in woman's heart ! 
 
 She will, at least, behold that form once more ; 
 See its last /<3stige from her world depart, 
 
 And mark the spot to haunt and wander o'er ; 
 Rased in that impulse of the human breast 
 All the cold lessons on its leaves imprest ; — 
 
[book v. 
 
 .k, 
 
 le strook 
 ler face 
 
 BOOK v.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 145 
 
 ling hand ] 
 rene? 
 
 i, 
 
 le queen. 
 
 rvey 
 
 tane, 
 
 un. 
 
 rt! 
 ore ; 
 
 'er ; 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 Snapt in the strength of the divine desire 
 
 All the vain swathes with which convention thralls ; — 
 Nature breaks forth, and at her breath of fire 
 
 The elaborate snow-pile's molten temple falls ; 
 And life's scared priestcrafts fly before that Truth, 
 Whose name is Passion, whose great altar, Youth ! 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 Unknown the egress, dreamless of the snare, 
 
 Sole aim to look the last on the adored ; 
 She gains the fane — she treads the aisle — and there 
 
 The deathlights guide her to the bridal lord ; 
 On, through pale groupes around the yawning cave, 
 She comes — and looks upon the livid wave. 
 
 L. 
 
 She comes — ^she sees afar, amidst the dark, 
 That fair, serene, undaunted, godlike brow,— 
 
 Sees on the lurid deep the lonely bark 
 
 Drift through the circling horror — sees, and now 
 
 On light's far verge it hovers, wanes, and fades, 
 
 As roars the hungering cataract up the shades. 
 
 Voiceless she looked, and voiceless looked and smiled 
 On her the priest ; strange though the marvel seem, 
 
 The old man, childless, loved her more than child ; 
 She linked each thought — she coloured every dreatn : 
 
 But Love, the varying Genius, guides, in turn, 
 
 The soft to pity, to revenge the sterni 
 
146 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book v. 
 
 LII. 
 
 Not his the sympathy which soothes the woe, 
 But that which, wrathful, feels and shares the wrong. 
 
 He in the faithless but beheld the foe ; 
 
 The weak he righted when he smote the strong ; 
 
 In one dread crime a twofold virtue seen, 
 
 Here saved the land, and there avenged the queen. 
 
 LIII. 
 
 So through the liush his hissing murmur stole — 
 " Ay, -^gl6, blossom on the stem of kings, 
 
 Not to fresh altars glides the perjurer's soul, 
 Not to new maids the vows still thine he brings ; 
 
 No rival mocks thee from the bloodless shore, 
 
 The dead, at least, are faithful evermore." 
 
 ft 
 t 
 
 t 
 
 m 
 
 LIV. 
 
 As when around the demigod of love. 
 
 Whom men Prometheus call, relentless fell 
 
 The flashing fires of Zeus, and Heaven above 
 Opened in flame, and flaming yawned the hell ; 
 
 While gazing dauntless on the Thunderer's frown. 
 
 Sunk from the Er ith, the Earth's Light-bringer down ; 
 
 So, while both worlds before its »ignt lay bare, 
 And o'er one ruin burst the lightning shock, 
 
 Love, the Arch-Titan, in sublime despair, 
 Faced the rent Hades from the shattered rock ; 
 
 And saw in Heaven, the future Heaven foreshown. 
 
 When Love shall reign where Force usurps the throne. 
 
[book v. 
 
 BOOK v.] 
 
 Kim ARTHUR. 
 
 147 
 
 LVI. 
 
 ; the wrong, 
 trong ; 
 queen. 
 
 ie— 
 wrings ; 
 
 1 
 
 hell ; 
 own, 
 ger down ; 
 
 e, 
 k, 
 
 ock ; 
 hown, 
 le throne. 
 
 The Woman heard, and gathering majesty 
 
 Beamed on her front, and crowned it with command 
 
 The pale priest shrunk before her tranquil eye. 
 And the light touch of her untrembling hand — 
 
 " Enjoy," she said, with voice as clear as low, 
 
 " Enjoy thy hate ; where love survives I go. 
 
 LVII. 
 
 " Sweetly thou smilest — sweetly, gentle Death, 
 Kinder than life ; — that severs, thou unitest ! 
 
 To realms He spoke of goes this living breath 
 A living soul, wherever space is brightest — 
 
 Fair Love — I trusted, now I claim, thy troth ! 
 
 Blest be thy couch, for it hath room for both ! " 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 Pie said and from each hand that would restrain 
 Broke, in the strength of her sublime despair; 
 
 Switt as the meteor on the northern main 
 
 Fades from the ice-lockt sea-king's livid stare — 
 
 She sprang ; the robe a sudden glimmer gave, 
 
 And o'er the vision swepi; the closing wave. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 Return, wild Song, to Lancelot ! Behold 
 
 Our Lord's lone house beside the placid mere ! 
 
 There pipes the careless shepherd to his fold, 
 Or from the crags the shy capellae peer 
 
 Through the green rents of many a hanging brake, 
 
 Which sends its quivering shadow to the lake. 
 
i! 1 
 
 148 
 
 Kim ARTHUR. 
 
 [book v. 
 
 LX. 
 
 And by the pastoral margins mournfully 
 
 Wanders from dawn to eve the earnest knight ; 
 
 And ever to the ring he turns his eye, 
 And ever does the ring perplex the sight ; 
 
 The fairy hand tiiat knew no rest before, 
 
 Rests now as fixed as if its task were o'er. 
 
 LXI. 
 
 Tow'rds the far head of the calm water turned 
 The unmoving finger ; yet, when gained the place, 
 
 No path for human foct the knight discerned — 
 Abrupt and huge, the rocks enclosed the space. 
 
 Veiling his scath'd front in eternal snows, 
 
 High above eagles Alpine Atlas rose. 
 
 LXII. 
 
 No cleft ! save that which a swift torrent clove 
 For its fierce hurry to the lake it fed ; 
 
 Chcckt for awhile in chasms concealed above. 
 Thence all its pomp the dazzling horror spread, 
 
 And from the beetling ridges, smooth and sheer, 
 
 Flashed in one mass, down-roaring to the mere. 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 Still to that spot the fairy hand inclined, 
 And daily there with wistful searching eyes 
 
 Wandered the knight ; each day no path to find. 
 And climb in vain the ladder to the skies ; 
 
 Still was each step foiled by the Alpine wall, 
 
 Still the old guide refused its aid in all 
 
[book v. 
 
 BOOK v.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 149 
 
 ight ; 
 
 Bd 
 
 le place, 
 pace. 
 
 vc 
 
 read, 
 
 eer, 
 
 re. 
 
 ind. 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 One noon, as thus lie gazed in stern despair 
 On rock and torrent ; — from the tortured spray. 
 
 And through the niists, into casrulean air, 
 A dove descending rushed its arrowy way ; 
 
 Swift as a falUng star which, falling, brings 
 
 AVoe on the helmet-crown of Dorian kings ! * 
 
 LXV. 
 
 Straight to the wanderer's hand bore down the bird, 
 With plumage crisped with fear, and piercing plaint ; 
 
 Oft had he heedful, in his wanderings, heard 
 Of the great Wrong-Eedresser, whom a saint 
 
 In the dove's guise directed — " Hail," he cried, 
 
 " I greet the token — I accept the guide !" 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 And sudden as he spoke, arose the wing, 
 
 Warily veering tow'rds the dexter flank 
 Of the huge chasm, through which leapt thundering 
 
 From Nature's heart her savage ; on the bank 
 Of that fell stream, in root, and jag, and stone. 
 It traced the ladder to the glacier's throne. 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 Slow sailed the dove, and paused, and looked behind. 
 As labouring after, crag on crag, the knight, — 
 
 Close on the deafening roar, and whirling wind 
 
 Lashed from the surges, — through the vaporous night 
 
 Of the grey mists, loomed up the howling .vild ; 
 
 Strong in the charm the Fairy gave the child. 
 
 * In moonless nights, evcrj' cJprhth year, tlic Spartan Ephors consulted the heavens ; 
 if there appeared the meteor, which we call the shootinp strr, they adjudged their kings 
 to hiwc committed some offence against the gods, and suspended them from their office 
 till fttxiuitted by the Delphic oracle, or Olympian priests.— Plut. Anis, \ MriiLERS 
 D»rians, b. iii. c, 6. 
 
I : 
 
 150 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 1 1 
 
 [book v. 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 With bleeding hands, that leave a moment's red 
 On stone and stem washed by the mignty spray, 
 
 He gains at length the cataract's central bed 
 
 Where the rocks levelled checl' the U rre. t's way, 
 
 And form u asir oV abj^mr 1 c«i '0!S 
 
 For the grim respite of the heac^loxig wa* os. 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 Torrents below — the torrents still above ! 
 
 Above less awful — as precipitous peak 
 And splintered ledge — and many a curve and cove 
 
 In the comprest indented margins, break 
 That crushing sense ot power, in which we see 
 What, without Nature's God, would Nature be : 
 
 LXX. 
 
 Before him, stretched the maelstrom of the abyss ; 
 
 And, in the central torrent, giant pines, 
 Uprooted from the bordering wilderness 
 
 By some gone winter's blnst — in flashing lines 
 Shot through the whirl — then, pluckt to the profound, 
 Vanished and rose, swift eddying round and round. 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 But on the marge as on the wave thou art, 
 
 conquering Death ! — what human, hueless face 
 
 Rests pillowed on a silenced human heart ? 
 
 Vv hat arm still clasps in more than love's embrace 
 
 That form for which yon vulture flaps its wing? 
 
 Kneel, Lancelot, kneel, thine eyes behold thy King ! 
 
 
 
[book v. 
 
 red 
 spray, 
 
 i's way, 
 
 cove 
 
 }e 
 ►e: 
 
 byss; 
 
 ties 
 
 profound, 
 
 round. 
 
 iS face 
 
 mbrace 
 
 King! 
 
 BOOK v.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 151 
 
 /iXXII. 
 
 Alas in vain- -still in th^ Leath-god's cave, 
 Ere yet tl, torrc. t snatched the hurrying stream, 
 
 Uoslde M, cr; g grey-shimmerinp^ from the wave. 
 And near the biink by which the pallicl beam 
 
 ShoAved one pent path «vlong the rugged verge, 
 
 By which to leave the raft and scape the surge, — 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 Alas in vain, that haven to the ark 
 
 The dove had given ! — just won the refuge-place. 
 When, thrice emerging from the sheeted dark, 
 
 AVhite j^'lanced a robe, and livid rose a face ! 
 He saw, h^ sprang, --he neared, he grasped the vest ! 
 
 And both the torrent grappled to its breast. 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 Yet, in the immense and superhuman force. 
 
 Love and despair bestow upon the bold, 
 The strong man battled with the torrent's course. 
 
 Griped rock and layer, and ledge, with snatching hold, 
 Bruised, bleeding, broken, onwards, downwards driven. 
 No wave his treasure from his grasp had riven. 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 Saved, saved — at last before his reeling eyes. 
 Into the pool, that checkt the Fury, hurled. 
 
 Shone, as he rose, through all the hurtling skies. 
 
 The dove's white wing ; and ere the maelstrom whirled 
 
 The breasted waters to the central shock, 
 
 Showed the gnarled roots of the redeeming rock. 
 
 Jr%^ 
 
152 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book v. 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 Less sonso than instinct caught tho wing that shone, 
 The crags that sheltered ; — the wild billows gave 
 
 To the bruised limbs the force that failed their own, 
 And as he turned ind sunk, the swerving wave 
 
 Swooped round, dashed on, and to tho isthmus sped 
 
 The failing life whose arms still locked tho dead. 
 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 Long vain were Lancelot's cares and knightly skill, 
 Ere, through congealed veins, pulsed back the blood ; 
 
 The very wounds, the valour of the will, 
 The peaks that broke the fury of tho flood 
 
 Had helped to save ; alas the strong to save ! 
 
 For Strength to toil, till Love re-opes the grave. 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 Twice down the dismal path, the dove his guide. 
 The lake's charmed knight bore twice his helpless load ; 
 
 A chamois hunter, in the vale descried, 
 Aided the convoy to the house of God. 
 
 Dark — wroth — convulsed, the soul earth holdeth, lay ; 
 
 Calm from the bier beside it, smiled the clay ! 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 Song — for Lydian elegy too stern. 
 
 Song, cradled in the Celt's rough battle-shield ; 
 
 Kather from thee should life's true soldier learn 
 To hide the wounds — ^licroic while concealed ; 
 
 Man's noblest conflicts ever yet have been 
 
 Waged unrecorded in a field unseen. 
 
 i 
 
BOOK v.] 
 
 KINO AnTiiun. 
 
 153 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 Let the King's woo its muse in Silence claim, 
 When sense returned, and solitary life 
 
 Sate in the Shadow ! — shade or sun the same, 
 Toil hath brief respite ; man is made for strife. 
 
 Woman for rest ! — rest, bright with dreams is given, 
 
 Child of the heathen, in the C^hristian heaven ! 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 And to the Christian Prince's plighted bride. 
 The simple monks, the Christian's grave accord, 
 
 With lifted cross and swinging censer glide 
 To passing bells — the hermits of the Lord ; 
 
 And at that hour, in her own native vale. 
 
 Her own soft race their mystic loss bewail. 
 
 LXXXU. 
 
 Methinks I see the Tuscan Genius yet. 
 
 Lured, lingering by the clay it loved so well. 
 
 And listening to the two-fold dirge that met 
 In upper air ; — ^here Nazarene anthems swell 
 
 Triumphal paoans ! — there, the Alps behind. 
 
 Etrurian Naeniae,* load the lagging wind. 
 
 LXXXIII. 
 
 Pauses the startled Genius to compare 
 
 The notes that mourn the life, at best so brief, 
 
 With those that welcome to empyreal air 
 The bright escaper from a world of grief ; 
 
 Marvelling what creed, beyond the happy vale 
 
 Can teach the soul the loathed Styx to hail ! 
 
 * Nscnia), the funeral hymns borrowed by the Bomans from the Etrurians, 
 
I 
 
 154 
 
 KING AltTIIUn. 
 
 [book v. 
 
 TH3 ETRURIAN N^ENLE. 
 
 Whoro art thou, pale and melancholy ghost ? 
 No funeral rites appease thy tombless clay ; 
 Uuburicd, glidest thou by the dismal coast, 
 
 exile from the day ? 
 
 There, where the voice of love is heard no more, 
 
 Where the dull wave moans back the eternal wail, 
 Dost thou recall the summer suns of yore. 
 
 Thine own melodious vale ? 
 
 Thy Lares stanc^ on thy deserted floors. 
 
 And miss their last sweet daughter's holy face. 
 What hand shall wreathe with flowers the threshold doors ? 
 
 What child renew the race ? 
 
 Thine are the nuptials of the dreary Shades, 
 
 Of all thy groves what rests ? — the cypress tree ! 
 As from the air a strain of music fades, 
 
 Dark silence buries thee 
 
 Yet no, lost child of more than mortal sires, 
 
 Thy stranger bridegroom bears thee to his home. 
 Where the stars light the iEsars' nuptial fires 
 
 In Tina's azure dome ; 
 
 From the fierce wave the god's celestial wing 
 
 Rapt thee aloft along the yielding air ; 
 With amaranths fresh from heaven's eternal spring. 
 
 Bright Cupra* braids thy hair. 
 
 Ah, in those halls for us thou wilt not mourn, 
 
 Far are the tsars' jojs from human woe : 
 But not the less forsaken and forlorn 
 
 Those thou hast left below ! 
 
 Cupra, or Talna, corresponding with Juno, tho nuptial goddes 
 
 i ! 
 
ROOK v.] 
 
 KINO ARTHUR. 
 
 155 
 
 Never, oh never more, shall we behold thee, 
 
 The last spark dies upon the sacred hearth ; 
 Art thou loss lost, though heavenly arms enfold thee — 
 
 Art thou loss lost to earth ? 
 
 Slow swells the sorrowing Nieniao's chaunted strain, 
 Time with slow flutes our leaden footsteps keep ; 
 Sad earth, whato'er the happier heaven may gain. 
 
 Hath but a loss to weep. 
 
 tHE CHRISTIAN FUNERAL HYMN. 
 
 Sing we Halleluiah — singing 
 
 Halleluiah to the Three ; 
 Where, vain Death, oh, where thy stinging ? 
 
 Where, Grave, thy victory ? 
 
 As a sun a soul hath risen ; 
 
 Rising from a stormy main ; 
 When the captive breaks the prison. 
 
 Who, but slaves, would mourn the chain ? 
 
 Fear for age with cares unholy. 
 
 Feebly clinging still to sin : 
 Whcu the daylight darkens slowly. 
 
 And the solemn shades begin : 
 
 Not for youth ! — although the bosom 
 
 With a sharper grief be rung ; 
 For the May wind st; ^ws the blossom. 
 
 And the angel takes the young ! 
 
 Saved from sins, while yet forgiven ; — 
 From the joys that lead astray. 
 
 From the earth at war with heaven. 
 Soar, happy soul, away ! 
 
1 t 
 
 i 
 
 \ 
 
 i ! 
 
 ' 
 
 i 
 
 I 
 
 ;: 
 
 
 15G 
 
 K/NG AJI/niUIL 
 
 [nooK V. 
 
 From tlio hvimaii lovo that fa<lcth, 
 
 In the falHcliood or the tonib ; 
 From the cloud that darkly Hliadoth ; 
 
 I'Vorri the canker in the l>lo<)m ; 
 
 1'hou liant jtast to Huna unsotting, 
 Where the rainhow Hi).'in.s the Hood, 
 
 Where no moth the garh in fretting, 
 Whure no wonn iw in the bud, 
 
 liCt the arrow leave the rpilver, 
 
 ft waH faHJiioned hut to soar ; 
 Let the wave j)aHH from the river, 
 
 Intf) ocean evenr.ore ! 
 
 i'.iindful yet of mortal feeling 
 
 la thy fresh immortal birth ; 
 T'y the Virgin Mother kneeling, 
 
 Plca<l for those beloved on earth. 
 
 Whisper them thou hast forsaken, 
 
 " W^oc but borders unbelief ; " 
 Comfort smiles in faith unshaken. 
 
 Shall thy glory be their grief ? 
 
 Let one ray on tliem descending, 
 From the prophet Future stream ; 
 
 Jiliss is daylight never ending, 
 Sorrow bu', a passing dream. 
 
 O'er the grave in far communion 
 
 With the choral Seraphim, 
 C'haunt in notes that hail reunion, 
 
 Chaunt the Christian's funeral hymn. 
 
 Singing Halleluiah singing 
 
 JIallcluiah to the 'i'iirec, 
 Where, vain Death, oh, where thy stinging? 
 
 WhcK!, (Jravc, thy victory? 
 
nooK v.] 
 
 KINO ARTIIUll 
 
 157 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 So ro.st.4 tlio cliild of creeds hefore tlic Circok'n, 
 In our TiOni'H holy ground — bctw<!on the walls 
 
 or tli(! gr(;y convent .'viid the V(!rdiint creek.s 
 or the .se,fiucHten!d mere ; afar the falls 
 
 Of the fierce torrent from her native vale, 
 
 Vex the calm wav(!, and groan n\M)\\ the gale. 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 Survives that remnant of old races still, 
 
 In its strange haven from the surge of Time ? 
 
 'i'h(!re yet do Carnsee's songs at sunset thrill, 
 At thr same hour when here, the vesper chime 
 
 Ifymns the sweet Motlnsr ? Ah, can granite gate, 
 
 Cataract, and Alp, exclude the steps of Fate 1 
 
 Lxxxvr. 
 
 World- wearied man, thou know<!st not on the earth 
 What Higions lie bf;yond, yet near, thy ken ! 
 
 liiit coiddst thou find them, what wouM l)e the worth ] 
 No I'^ields I'ilysian l>looni for mortal men : 
 
 liUt man is more than mortal, and on all 
 
 His griefs the shadow of those Fiiihls may fall. 
 
 Lxxxvir. 
 
 By yFygle's grave, the royal mourn(;r sate, 
 And from his bended eyes the veiling hand 
 
 Shut out the setting sun ; — tlius, desolate. 
 He sate, with Memory in her spirit land, 
 
 And took no heed of liancelot's soothing words, 
 
 To the' oakj Ix It-shattered, sing in vain the ]>irds I 
 
 rn 
 
i I 
 
 'i 
 
 
 158 
 
 KING ARTIIUll 
 
 [book v. 
 
 Lxxxvin. 
 
 Vain Ih tlioir promiHCj of returning Rpring ; 
 
 Spring may give leaves, can spring reclo.se tlie cor<; ? 
 Comfort not Horrow^ — sorrow's self must bring 
 
 Its own Rt(;rn cure ! — All wisdom's holiest lore, 
 The * Know thyself,' disscends from heaven in tears ; 
 Th(; cloud must break ])efore the liorizon clears. 
 
 LXXXIX. 
 
 Tlie dove forsook not : — now it's poised wing, 
 Bathed in the sunset, rested o'er the lake ; 
 
 Now })rooded o'er the grave besid<j the King, 
 Now with husht plumes, as if it feared to wak<5 
 
 Shsep, less serene than Death's, it sought his breast. 
 
 And o'er the heart of misery claimed its nest. 
 
 xo. 
 
 Night falls — the moon is at her full ; — the m(!re 
 Shines with the sheen pellucid ; not a breeze ! 
 
 And through the husht and argent atmosphere 
 Sharp rise the summits of the breathless trees ; 
 
 ./hen Lancelot saw, all indistinct and pale, 
 
 Glide o'er the liquid glass a mistlike sail. 
 
 XC'I. 
 
 Now, first from Arthur's dreams of fever gained, 
 And since — for grief unlocks the secret heart, — 
 
 Bri(!fly confest, the triple toil ordained 
 
 The knighfJy brother knew ; — so with a start 
 
 He strained tlie eyes, to which a fairy gave 
 
 Vision of fairy forms, along the wave. 
 
[book v. 
 
 nooK v.] 
 
 KING ARTIIUIl 
 
 159 
 
 XC'II. 
 
 the coro ? 
 
 ore, 
 tear.s ; 
 
 r^ake 
 ►roast, 
 
 re 
 
 oh; 
 
 A 
 
 Then in his own the King's cold hand lie took, 
 Arnl spoke— " Arise, thy mission calls tluie now ! 
 
 Let tJi(; (l(!ad rfist— still lives tliy country ! — look, 
 And ncrv(! thy knighthood to rcMleem its vow. 
 
 This is the Lake whose waves the Falchion hid(?, 
 
 And yon the bark that becks thee to tin; tide ! " 
 
 x«;ni. 
 
 Listless arose the King, and look<!d abroad. 
 
 Nor saw the sail ; —though nearer, clearer gliding, 
 
 The Fairy nurseling, by the vapoury shroud 
 And vapoury helm, l^eheld a phantom guiding. 
 
 " Not this," replied the King, " the Lake decreed ; 
 
 Where points thy hand, but floats a broken reed ! 
 
 xcrv. 
 
 " Where are the dangers on that placid tide 1 
 
 Where are the fiends who guard the enclianted ))(>on ? 
 
 Seest thou how calmly rests the ]>h(med guide 
 On the cold grave, beneath the quiet moon ! 
 
 So night gives rest to grief — with la))Ouring day 
 
 Let the dove lead, and life, resume, the way." 
 
 X(!V. 
 
 Then answered Lancelot — for he was wise 
 In each mysterious Drui(] parable : — • 
 
 " Oft in the things most simple to our eyes, 
 Tli(! real genii of our doom may dwell - 
 
 The enchanter spoke of trials to befall , 
 
 Arid the lone heart has trials yorse than all. 
 
I 
 
 I s 
 
 160 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book v. 
 
 X(;vi. 
 
 " Weird triads toll us that our nature knows 
 In its own colls the demons it should brave ; 
 
 And oft the calm of after ^lory flows 
 
 Clear round the marge of early passion's grave ; " 
 
 And the dove came, ere fjancelot ceased to speak, 
 
 To its lord's hand — a leaflet in its beak ; 
 
 XCV.i. 
 
 A leafl<;t starry with the first pale flower 
 
 liudding on Vl^^gUj's grave : then Arthur knew 
 
 'I'he he,rb wliieh gave to mortal sight the power 
 To gaze on forms sj)iritual ; lie withdn;w 
 
 From th(; dove's beak tin; mournful boon, and placed 
 
 On lips that kissed— the herb of bitter taste. 
 
 xcviir. 
 
 And straight the fdm fell from his heavy eyes ; 
 
 And, moored ])(!side the marge, ho saw the bark. 
 Its fair sails swelling, though in windless skies, 
 
 And the fair Lady in the ro])es of dark. 
 O'er moonlit tracks she stretched the shadowy hand, 
 And lo, beneath the waters bloomed the land ! 
 
 xcix. 
 
 Forests of emerald verdure spread Ixslow, 
 With pillared temples gleaming far and wide, 
 
 On to the bark the mourner's footsteps go ; 
 The pale King stands ])/ tlie pale phantom's side ; 
 
 And Lancelot Hp^Jin*; — V'S t sudden from his reach 
 
 Glanced Uie wan sicff and left him on the beach* 
 
[book v. 
 
 IW>OK v.] 
 
 KING ART nun. 
 
 IGl 
 
 m ; 
 
 grav(! ; 
 Rpoak, 
 
 c. 
 
 (JhainfMl to tlif; nartli by Hpf^llw, inoro strong tliaii lovr, 
 Tfo Haw i\\{' pinna^jo Htoal its noiseloHs way, 
 
 And on tho inaHt tlicin; 8at<; tlu; Ht(;a(lfast dovo, 
 VVitli white, plumo sinning in tlic, Btcadfast ray — 
 
 Slow from his sight the wavfts the Vision bear, 
 
 And not a speck is ii' the pijri)lc air. 
 
 cnew 
 wer 
 
 nd phiced 
 
 e. 
 
 le bark, 
 ies, 
 
 wy hand, 
 id! 
 
 vide, 
 
 im's side ; 
 reach 
 beachi 
 

 li 
 
 I 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 n 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
 ( 
 
 ! i > 
 
 1 
 
 II 
 
 Ak^Iv.. - JF 
 
Booh the Sixth. 
 
Ml' UMENT. 
 
 UcHcrij'-'.on of tlm Cyniriaii flrc-bcacotiH— Dialoyuo hotwccii Gcwdinc and Caradoc — 
 The raven— Merlin announcci to Gawaine tliat the l)ird .soloctH liini for the aid of the 
 Kin;j— The kniKht'H (-: ^ ; scnipIeH-Hc jichls reluctantly, and receives the raven a.s liirt 
 f,'uido— Ills pathetic farewell to Caradoc— The knisht BCt« out on his ad von turcH— The 
 (;f)mpany ho meetH and the olili^ation ho incurs— Tl:o hride and the swonl The bride's 
 chr)ice and the hoiind'H fidelity - Sir Oawaino lies down to »lcep under the fairy's oak— 
 What there hefallH him- The fairy hanquet-Tho temptation of Sir Gawaine— The 
 r'''i)ukeof the fairies Sir Gawaine, ni < h displcpscd with the raven, resumes his journey 
 — His adventure with the Viking", aiici ) ow he comforts himself in his cai»tivity. 
 
Booh Six. 
 
 I. 
 
 N tho hare sunnnit of tlie loftiest peak — 
 
 CnAvning the hills round C'ywri's Iseaii home, 
 
 Rose the ;<r«y t(!nii)le of the >\HK Anti(]ue, [Rome, 
 I'cfore \vhos<! juiests had |>a\is<'d the inarch of 
 
 When the dark isle revvaled its drear ahodcs, 
 
 L'v/^ And the last Hades of Cimmerian gods ; 
 
 While dauntless Drui^ls, hy th<'ir shrines profaned, 
 
 Stretched o'er tk' steel-clad hush their swordless hands,* 
 
 And dire K<'ligion, horror-brrathing, chained 
 The frozen eagles, — till th«; shuddering hands, 
 
 Slianii'd into slaughter, broke tho ghastly spell. 
 
 And, lost in reeks of carnnge, sujdt the hell. 
 
 III. 
 
 Quivered on colunm-shafts the poised rock. 
 
 As if a breeze could shake the ruin dwwn ; 
 But storm on storm had sent its thundcT-shock, 
 
 Nor reft tlie temple of its charmi-d crown- 
 So awe of Power Divine on human breasts 
 Vibrates for ever and for over rests. 
 
 * Sec Tiwiitus, I xiv. cap. 30, for tlio ccloliratcd (lescriptioii of the attack oti tho 
 Druidn, in their refuge in Aloiia, uiuler I'lihlius .Suetonius. 
 
I 
 
 il 
 
 ICG 
 
 KING ARTUmi 
 
 [book VI. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Within the fano awaits a giant pyre, 
 
 Around the pyre assembled warriors stand ; 
 A pause of prayer ; — and suddenly the fire 
 
 Flings its ])road banner reddening o'er the land. 
 Shoot the fierce sparks and ^^roan the crackling pines, 
 Tost on the wave of shields the glory shines. 
 
 V. 
 
 Lo, from dark night flash Carduel's domes of gold, 
 uiow the jagged rampires like a belt of light. 
 
 And to the stars springs up the Dragon-hold, 
 With one lone image on the lonely height — 
 
 O'er those who saw a thrilling silence fell ; 
 
 There, the still Prophet watched o'er Carduel ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 Forth on their mission rushed the wings of flame ; 
 
 Hill after hill the land's grey warders rose ; 
 First to the Mount of Bards* the splendour came, 
 
 Wreathed with large halo Trigarn'st stern repose ; 
 On, post by post, the fiery courier rode. 
 Blood-red, Edeirnion's;}: dells of verdure glowed ; 
 
 * Twm Barlwm, in Monmoutlishire, on which the bards are supijosed to have 
 assembled. 
 
 t Moel Trifjarii in Pembrokeshire ; it has on its summit the remains of an old 
 encampment onclosinjc three inunonse cairns. 
 
 X The beaut.fnl valley of Edeirnion watered bj- the Dee. 
 
[book Vi. 
 
 BOOK VI,] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 1G7 
 
 VII. 
 
 ml j 
 
 le land. 
 :lin<5 pines, 
 
 iS. 
 
 Uprose the luirdy men of Merioneth, 
 
 When, o'er the dismal strata i)arched and bleak, 
 Like some revived volcano's lurid breath 
 
 Sprang tlic fierce fire-jet from the herbless peak ; 
 Flashed dcwn on mo<'ting streams the basalt walls/^ 
 In molten flame Khaiadyr's thunder falls ; 
 
 of gold, 
 light. 
 
 t— 
 
 el! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Tiiy Faban Mount, t Carnarvon, seized the sign, 
 And passed the watchword to the Fairies' Hill;:}: 
 
 All Mono blazed — as if the isle divine 
 To Bel, the sun god, drest her altars still ; 
 
 M( ai reflects tlie prophet hues, and far 
 
 To tv.ofold ocean knells the coming war. 
 
 IX. 
 
 flame; 
 
 ^; 
 
 came, 
 1 repose ; 
 
 ved; 
 
 Then wheeling round, the lurid herald swept 
 
 To quench the stars yet struggling with the gbxc, 
 
 Blithe to his task, resplendent Golcun§ leapt — 
 The bearded giant rose on MoeVy-Gaer— 
 
 Rose his six giant brothers, — Eifle rose, 
 
 And great Eryri|| lit his chasms of snows. 
 
 supposed to have 
 •einains of an old 
 
 * The confluence of the Machno with tlie Conwy ; in that neiphhourhood is a ranjjo 
 of hasalt roclts, bendin^f over tlie water. Near whore the stream meets arc the cele- 
 brated falls of Rhaiadyr-y-Crai)? Llwyd. 
 
 t Moel-Faban, Caernarvonshire. 
 
 X Moelwnnion. 
 
 § Cop-yr-Oolcuni, or Mount of Li^ht— probably the si<nial mount of the ffroat chain 
 of beacons on that side of Wales, Moel-y-Gaer (the Hill of the Camp), Moel-Arthur. 
 Moel-Fenlh, &c., in all six principal beacon hills. 
 
 II Eryri, Snowdon. 
 
IMAGE EVALUATION 
 TEST TARGET (MT-3) 
 
 
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 1^ IH^ U^ 
 
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 Sciences 
 
 Corporation 
 
 
 
 23 VVIST MAIN STIIET 
 
 WtBSTM.N.Y. U5M 
 
 (716) •73-4503 
 
 '^ 
 
If- ■ 
 
 if 
 
 168 
 
 KINO ARTHUR. 
 
 [book VI. 
 
 X. 
 
 So one vast altar was that father-land ! 
 
 But nobler altars flashed in souls of men, 
 Sublimer than the mountain-tops the brand 
 
 Found pyres in every lowliest hamlet glen : 
 Soon on the rocks shall die the grosser fire — 
 Souls lit to freedom bum till suns expire. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Slowly the chiefs desert the blazing fiine, 
 Sure of steel-harvests from the dragon seed, 
 
 Descend the mountain and the walls regain ; 
 There unto each the glorious task decreed 
 
 Of central suns which round their orbs unite 
 
 The fetarry legions that reflect their light. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Last of the noble conclave, lingered two ; 
 
 Gawaine the mirthful, Caradoc the mild. 
 And, as the watchfires thickened on their view. 
 
 War's fearless playmate raised his hand and smiled. 
 Pointing each splendour, linking rock to rock ; 
 And while he smiled — sighed earnest Caradoc. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 " Now by my head — an empty oath, and light ! 
 
 No taller tapers ever lit to rest 
 Rome's stately Caesar ; — sigh'st thou, at the sight 
 
 Of cost o'er-lavish, when so mean the guest 1" 
 " Was it for this the gentle Saviour died ? 
 Is Cain so gioriousi" Caradoc replied. 
 
BOOK VI.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 1C9 
 
 XIV. 
 
 " Permit, Sir Bard, an argument on that," 
 True to his fame, said golden-tongued Gawaine, 
 
 " The hawk may save his fledglings from the cat, 
 Nor yet deserve comparisons with Cain ; 
 
 And Abel's fate, to hands unskilled, proclaims 
 
 The use of practice in gymnastic games. 
 
 XV. 
 
 " Woes that have been are man's best lesson-book 
 From Abel's death, his nimbler sons should learn 
 
 To add an inch of iron to the crook. 
 
 And strike, when struck, a little in return — 
 
 Had Abel known his quarterstaff, I wot. 
 
 Those Saxon Ap-Cains ne'er had been begot." 
 
 XVI. 
 
 More had he said, but a strange, grating note. 
 
 Half laugh — half croak, was here discordant heard ; 
 
 An ave rose — but died within his throat. 
 
 As close before him perched the enchanter's bird, 
 
 With head aslant, and glittering eye askew. 
 
 It neared the knight — the knight in haste withdrew. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 "All saints defend me, and excuse a jest !" 
 Muttered Sir Gawaine — " bird or fiend avaunt : 
 
 Oh, holy Abel, let this matter rest, 
 I do repent me of my foolish taunt !" 
 
 With that the cross upon his sword he kist, 
 
 And stared aghast — the bird was on his wrist. 
 
i 
 
 170 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book VI. 
 
 I 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 " Hem — vade Satanas ! — discede I retro" 
 
 The raven croaked, and fixed himself afresh ; 
 
 " Aves damnata — juheo et impetro" 
 
 Ten pointed claws here fastened on his flesh ; 
 
 The knight, sore smarting, shook his arm — the bird 
 
 Pecked in reproach, and kept its perch unstirred. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Quoth Caradoc — whose time had come to smile, 
 And smile he did in grave and placid wise — 
 
 " Let not thine evil thoughts, my friend defile 
 The harmless wing descended from the skies." 
 
 "Skies ! ! !" said the knight — "black imps from skies descend 
 
 With claws like these ! — the world is at an end !" 
 
 XX. 
 
 " Now shame, Gawaine, O knight of little heart. 
 
 How if a small and inoffensive raven 
 Dismay thee thus, couldst thou have tracked the chart 
 
 By which -^neas w^on his Alban-haven 1 
 On Harpies, Scylla, Cerberus, reflect ; 
 And undevoured — rejoice to be but peckt." 
 
 XXI. 
 
 " True," said a voice behind them, — " gentle bard. 
 In life as verse, the art is — to compare." 
 
 Gawaine turned short, gazed keenly, and breathed hard 
 As on the dark-robed Magian streamed the glare 
 
 Of the huge watchfire — " Prophet," quoth Gawaine, 
 
 " My friend scorns pecking — let him try the pain. 
 
 -^sdjil _ 
 
[book VI. 
 
 BOOK VI.] 
 
 KING ARTlWn. 
 
 171 
 
 sh; 
 
 sh ; 
 
 ihe bird 
 irred. 
 
 lile, 
 
 le 
 
 ies." 
 
 )m skies descend 
 
 end!" 
 
 Bart, 
 the chart 
 
 bard, 
 
 sathed hard 
 e glare 
 rawaine, 
 pain. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 " Please to call back this — offspring of the skies ! 
 
 Unworthy I to be his earthly rest !" 
 " Methought," said Merlin, " that thy King's emprize 
 
 Had found in thee a less reluctant breast ; 
 Again is friendship granted to his side — 
 Thee the bird summons, be the bird thy guide." 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Dumb stared the knight — stared first upon the seer, 
 Then on the raven, — who, demure and sly, 
 
 Turned on his master a respectful ear. 
 And on Gawaine a magisterial eye. 
 
 " What hath a king with ravens, seer, to do 1" 
 
 " Woden, the king of half the world, had two. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 " Peace — if thy friendship answer to its boast. 
 Arm, tiike thy steed, and with the dawn depart — 
 
 The bird will lead thee to the ocean coast ; 
 Strange are thy trials, stalwart be thy heart." 
 
 " Seer," quoth Gawaine, "my heart I hope is tough, 
 
 Nor needs a prop from this portentous chough. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 " You know the proverb — * birds of the same feather,' 
 A proverb much enforced in penal laws,* 
 
 In certain quarters were we seen together 
 It might, I fear, suffice to damn my cause : 
 
 You cite examples apt and edifying — 
 
 Woden kept ravens ! — well, and Woden's frying !" 
 
 * In Welch laws it was sufficient to condemn a person to be found with notoriouB 
 offenders. 
 
172 
 
 KING ARTHUR 
 
 [book VI. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 The enchanter smiled, in pity or in scorn ; 
 
 The smile was sad, but lofty, calm, and cold — 
 " The straws," he said, " on passing winds upborne 
 
 Dismay the courser — man should be more bold. 
 Dismiss thy terrors, go thy ways, my son, 
 To do thy duty is the fiend to shun. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 " Not for thy sake the bird is given to thee. 
 But for thy King's." — " Enough," replied the knight, 
 
 And bowed his head. The bird rose jocundly. 
 Spread its dark wing and rested in the light — 
 
 " Sir Bard," to Caradoc the chosen said 
 
 In the close whisper of a knight well bred : 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 " Vowed to my King — come man, come fiend, I go, 
 But ne'er expect to see thy friend again. 
 
 That bird carnivorous hath designs I know 
 Most anthropophagous on doomed Gawaine ; 
 
 I leave thee all the goods that most I prize — 
 
 Three steeds, six hawks, four gre-hounds, two blue eyes. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 " Beat back the Saxons — beat them well, my friend, 
 And when they're beaten, and thy hand's at leisure. 
 
 Set to thine harp a ditty on my end — 
 The most appropriate were the shortest measure : 
 
 Forewarned by me all light discourses shun. 
 
 And mostly — jests on Adam's second son." 
 
BOOK VI.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 173 
 
 easure : 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Ho said, and wondod down the glowing hill. 
 
 Long watched the minstrel with a wistful gaze, 
 Then joined the musing seer— and both were still, 
 
 Still mid the ruins — ^girded with the rays ; 
 Twin heirs of light and lords of time, grey Truth 
 That ne'er is young — and Song the only youth. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 At dawn from Carduel passed the chosen knight ; 
 
 Still as he rode, from forest, mount, and vale, 
 Rung lively horns, and in the morning light 
 
 Flashed the sheen banderoU, and the pomp of maii, 
 The welcome guest of AVar's blithe festival. 
 Keen for the feast, and summoned to the hall. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 Curt answer gave the knight to greeting gay, 
 And none to taunt from scurril churl unkind, 
 
 Oft asking, " if he did mistake the way 1" — 
 Or hinting, " war was what he left behind ;" 
 
 As noon came on, such sights and comments cease, 
 
 Lone through the pastures rides the knight in peace. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 Grave as a funeral mourner rode Cawaine — 
 The bird went first in most indecent glee. 
 
 Now soared from sight, now gambolled back again — 
 Now munched a beetle, and now chaced a bee — 
 
 Now plucked the wool from the meditative lan>.b, 
 
 Now picked a quarrel with a lusty ram. 
 
h\ 
 
 u 
 
 M 
 
 174 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [Book vi. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 Shcirp through his vizor, Gawaino watched the thing, 
 With dire misgivings at that impish mirth : 
 
 Day waxed — day waned — and still the dusky wing 
 Seemed not to find one resting place on earth. 
 
 *' Saints," groaned Gawaine, " have mercy on a sinner, 
 
 And move that demon — just to stop for dinner !" 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 The bird turns round, as if it understood, 
 
 Halts on the wing, and seems awhile to muse ; — 
 
 Then dives at once into a dismal Avood, 
 
 And grumbling much, the hungry knight pursues. 
 
 To hear, and, hearing, hope once more revives. 
 
 Sweet-clinking horns, and gently-clashing knives, 
 
 xxxvi. 
 
 An opening glade a pleasant group displays ; 
 
 Ladies and knights amidst the woodland feast ; 
 Around them, reinless, steed and palfrey graze ; 
 
 To earth leaps Gawaine — " I shall dine at least." 
 His casque he doffs — " Good knights and ladies fair. 
 Vouchsafe a famished man your feast to share." 
 
 xxxvii. 
 
 Loud laughed a big, broad-shouldered, burly host ; 
 
 " On two conditions, eat thy fill," quoth he ; 
 " Before one dines, 'tis well to know the cost — 
 
 Thou'lt wed my daughter, and thou'lt fight with me." 
 " Sir Host," said Gawaine, as he stretched his platter, 
 " I'll first the pie discuss, and then the matter." 
 
 ii 
 
DOOK VI. J 
 
 KING ARTHUR, 
 
 175 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 The ladies looked upon the comely knight, 
 
 His arch bright eye provoked the smile it found ; 
 
 The men admired that vasty appetite, 
 Meet to do honour to the Table Round ; 
 
 The host, reseated, sent the guest his horn : 
 
 Brimmed with pure drinks distilled from barley corn. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 Drinks rare in Cymri, true to milder mead. 
 
 But long familiar to Milesian lays. 
 So huge that draught, it had despatched with speed 
 
 Ten Irish chiefs in these degenerate days : 
 Sir Gawaine drained it, and Sir Gawaine laught, 
 " Cool is your drink, though scanty is the draught ; 
 
 XL. 
 
 " But, pray you pardon, (sir, a slice of boar,) 
 Judged by your accents, mantles, beards, and wine,- 
 
 If wine this be — ye come from Erin's shore, 
 To aid no doubt our kindred Celtic line ; 
 
 Ye saw the watch-fires on our hills at night 
 
 And march lo Carduel ? read I, sirs, aright ?" 
 
 XLl. 
 
 " Stranger," replied the host, " your guess is wrong. 
 And shows your lack of history and reflexion ; 
 
 Erin with Cymri is allied too long. 
 We come, my friend, to sever the connexion : 
 
 But first, (your bees are wonderful for honey,) 
 
 Yield us your hives — in plainer words your money." 
 
176 
 
 KING ARTUUll 
 
 [book VI. 
 
 'Ii 
 
 ll 
 
 XLII. 
 
 "Friend/' said the goldcn-tonguod Gawaine, " mcthought 
 Your mines were rich in wealthier ore than ours." 
 
 "True," said the host, superbly, "were they wrought ! 
 But shall Milesians waste in work their powers ? 
 
 Base was that thought, the heartless insult masking." 
 
 " Faith," said Gawaine, " gold's easier got by asking." 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 Upsprung the host, upsprung the guests in ire — 
 Upsprung the gentle dames, and fled affrighted ; 
 
 High rose the din, than all the din rose higher 
 The croak of that cursed raven quite delighted ; 
 
 Sir Gawaine finished his last slice of boar, 
 
 And said, " Good friends, more business and less roar. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 " If you want peace — shake hands, and peace, I say. 
 If you want fighting, gramercy ! we'll fight." 
 
 " Ho," cried the host, " your dinner you must pay — 
 The two conditions." — " Host, you're in the right 
 
 To fight I'm willing, but to wed I'm loth ; 
 
 I choose the first." — " Your word is bound to both : 
 
 XLV. 
 
 " Me first engaged, if conquered you are — dead, 
 And then alone your honour is acquitted ; 
 
 But conquer me, and then you must be wed ; 
 You ate ! — the contract in that act admitted." 
 
 " Host," cried the knight, half stunned by all the clatter, 
 
 " I only said I would discuss the matter. 
 
 "--5^«. 
 
BOOK VI.] 
 
 KINO AliTlIVn. 
 
 177 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 " But if your faith upon my word reposed, 
 That thought alone King Arthur's kniglit shall bind." 
 
 Few moments more, and host and guest had closed — 
 For blows come quick when folks are so inclined : 
 
 They foined, they fenced, changed play, and hacked and 
 
 Paused, panted, eyed each other, and renewed ; [hewed — 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 At length a dexterous and back-handed blov/, 
 Clove the host's casque and bowed him to his knee. 
 
 *' Host," said the Cymrian to his fallen foe ; 
 
 " But for thy dinner, wolves should dine on thee ; 
 
 Yield — thou bleed'st badly — yield and ask thy life." 
 
 " Content," the host replied — " embrace thy wife." 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 " Oh cursed bird," cried Gawaine, with a groan, 
 " Into what trap hast thou betrayed my life ; 
 
 Happy the man to whom was given a stone 
 When he asked bread ; I have received a wife. 
 
 Take warning, youths, and never dine with hosts 
 
 Who make their daughters adjuncts to their roasts." 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 While thus in doleful and heart-rending strain 
 Mourned the lost knight, the host his dau liter led. 
 
 Placed her soft hand in that of sad Gawaine — 
 " Joy be with both ! " — the bridegroom shook his head ! 
 
 " I have a castle which I won by force — 
 
 Mount, happy man, for thither wends our course : 
 M 
 
: 
 
 I 
 
 178 
 
 KINO ARTHUR. 
 
 [book VI. 
 
 t. 
 
 " Page, bind my scalp — to broken scalps we're used. 
 
 Your bride, my son, is worthy of your merit ; 
 No man alive has Erin's maids accused, 
 
 And least tJuit maiden, of a want of spirit j 
 She plies a sword as well as you, fair sir, 
 When out of hand, just try your hand on her." 
 
 LI. 
 
 Not once Sir Gawaine lifts his leaden eyes, 
 To mark the bride by partial father praised, 
 
 But mounts his steed — the gleesome raven flies 
 Before ; beside him rides the maid amazed : 
 
 " Sir Knight," said she at last, with clear loud voice, 
 
 " I hope your musings do not blame your choice 1 " 
 
 LII. 
 
 " Damsel," replied the knight of golden tongue, 
 
 As with some effort he replied at all, 
 '' Sith our two skeins in one the Fates have strung, 
 
 My thoughts were guessing when the shears would fall ; 
 Much irks it me, lest, vowed to toil and strife, 
 I doom a widow where I make a wife. 
 
 LIII. 
 
 '' And sooth to say, despite those matchless charms 
 Which well might fire our last new saint, Dubricius, 
 
 To-morrow's morn must snatch me from thine arms ; 
 Led to far lands by auguries, not auspicious — 
 
 Wise to postpone a bond, how dear soever, 
 
 Till my return." — " Return ! that may be never : 
 
 W 
 
 
[book VI. 
 
 BOOK VI.] 
 
 KINO ARTHUIt. 
 
 170 
 
 're used. 
 5rit ; 
 
 b; 
 
 er." 
 
 ed, 
 
 Hies 
 
 d: 
 
 >ud voice, 
 
 ^oice 1 " 
 
 gue, 
 
 strung, 
 
 irs would fall ; 
 
 ife, 
 
 charms 
 Dubricius, 
 ne arms ; 
 
 lUS — 
 
 ever: 
 
 LIV. 
 
 " What if you fall, — since thus you tempt the fates — 
 The yew will flourish where the lily fades ; 
 
 The laidliest widows And consolin,(< mates 
 
 With far less trouble than the comcliest maids ; 
 
 Wherefore, Sir Husband, have a cheerful mind, 
 
 Whate'er may chance your wife will be resigned." 
 
 LV. 
 
 That loving comfort, arguing sense discreet. 
 But coldly pleased the knight's ungrateful car, 
 
 But while devising still some vile retreat. 
 The trumpets flourish and the walls frown near ; 
 
 Just as the witching uight begins to fall 
 
 They pass the gates and enter in the hall. 
 
 LVI. 
 
 Soon in those times primaeval came the hour 
 When balmy sleep did wasted strength repair. 
 
 They led Sir Gawaine to the lady's bower. 
 Unbraced his mail and left him with the fair ; 
 
 Then first, demurely seated side by side. 
 
 The dolorous bridegroom gazed upon the bride. 
 
 LVH. 
 
 No iron heart had he of golden tongue. 
 To beauty none b}' nature were politer ; 
 
 The bride was tall and buxom, fresh and young, 
 And while he gazed, his tearful eyes grew brighter- 
 
 " ' For worse, for better,' runs the sacred verse, 
 
 Sith now no better — let me brave the worse." 
 
180 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book VI. 
 
 (• I 
 
 I 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 Witli that he took and kissed the lady's hand, 
 The lady smiled and Gawaine's heart grew bolder, 
 
 Whw from the roof by some unseen command 
 Flashed down a sword and smote him on the shoulder- 
 
 The knight leapt up, sore-bleeding from the stroke, 
 
 While from the lattice cawed the merriest croak ! 
 
 tl'! 
 
 LIX. 
 
 Aghast he gazed — the sword within the roof 
 Again had vanished ; nought was to be seen — 
 
 He felt his shoulder, anl remained aloof. 
 
 *^Fair dame," quoth he, " explain what this may mean." 
 
 The bride replied not, hid her face and wept ; 
 
 Moved, to her side, with caution, Gawaine crept. 
 
 LX. 
 
 " Nay, weep not, sweetheart, but a scratch — no more," 
 He bent to kiss the dewdrops from his rose, * 
 
 When presto down the glaive enchanted shore— 
 Gawaine leapt back in time to save his nose. 
 
 " Ah, cruei father," groan'd the lady then, 
 
 " I hoped at leabt thou wert content with ten !" 
 
 LXI. 
 
 "Ten what ?" said Gawaine. — " Gallant knights like thee, 
 Who fought and conquered my deceitful sire ; 
 
 Married, as thou, to miserable me. 
 And doomed, as thou, beneath the sword to expire — 
 
 By this device he gains their arms and steeds. 
 
 So where force fails him, there the fraud succeeds." 
 
[book VI. 
 
 BOOK VI.] 
 
 Kim ARTHUR. 
 
 181 
 
 K bolder, 
 
 ind 
 
 the shoulder — 
 
 stroke, 
 
 roak! 
 
 Jen — 
 
 [lis may mean. 
 3rept. 
 
 I* 
 
 -no more 
 se, 
 )re— 
 )se. 
 
 3n ! 
 
 ights like thee, 
 sire ; 
 
 to expire — 
 
 Is, 
 
 cceeds." 
 
 LXII. 
 
 " Foul felon host," the wrathful knight exclaims, 
 " Foul wizard bird, no doubt in league with him ! 
 
 Have they no dread lest all good knights and dames 
 Save fiends their task, and rend them limb from limb ? 
 
 But thou for Gawaine ne'er shalt be a mourner, • 
 
 Thou keep the couch, and I — yon farthest corner !" 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 This said, the prudent knight on tiptoe stealing 
 Went from his bride as far as he could go, 
 
 Then laid him down, intent upon the ceiling ; 
 looses, once lost, no second crop will grow — 
 
 So watched Sir Gawaine, so the lady wept, 
 
 Percht on the lattice-sill the raven slept. 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 The knight takes heart as the sun smiles again. 
 Steps climb the stair, a hand unbars the door — 
 
 " Saints," cries the host, and stares upon the twain. 
 Amazed to see that living guest once more — 
 
 "Did you sleep well 1" — "Why, yes," replied the knight, 
 
 " One gnat, indeed ; — but gnats were made to bite. 
 
 LXV. 
 
 " Man must lea^ e insects to their insect law ; — 
 Now thanks. ^ ind host, for boprd and bed and all — 
 
 Depart I must " — the raven gave a caw. 
 
 " And I with thee," chimed in that damsel tall. 
 
 " Nay," said Gawaine, " I wend on ways of strife," 
 
 " Sir, hold your tongue— I choose it ; I'm your wife." 
 
182 
 
 KING ARTHUR, 
 
 [book VI. 
 
 LXVl. 
 
 With that the lady took him by the hand, 
 And led him, iaXVvL of crest, adown the stair ; 
 
 Buckled his mail, and girded on his brand. 
 
 Brimmed full the goblet nor disdained to share — 
 
 The hoot saith nothing, or to knight or ^ride ; 
 
 Forth comes the steed — a palfrey by itb side. 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 Then Gawaine flung from the untasted board 
 His manchet to a hound with hungry face ; 
 
 Sprung to his selle, and wished, too late, that sword 
 Had closed his miseries with a coup de grace. 
 
 They clear the walls, the open road thej' gain ; 
 
 The bride rode dauntless — daunted much Gawaine. 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 Gaily the fair discoursed on many things. 
 But most on those ten lords — his time before, 
 
 Unhappy wights, who, as old Homer sings. 
 Had gone, * Proiapsoi,' to the Stygian shore ; 
 
 Then, each described and praised, — she smiled and said, 
 
 "But one live dog is '.vorth ten lions dead." 
 
 IXIX. 
 
 The knight prepared that proverb to refute, 
 When the bird beckoned down a delving lane, 
 
 And there the bride provoked a new dispute : 
 
 * That path was frightful— she preferred the plain.' 
 
 " Dame," said the knight, " not I your steps compel — 
 
 Take thou the plain ! — adieu ! I take the dell." 
 
 1 
 
 I 
 
 -m:38jB1,^ 
 
BOOK VI.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 183 
 
 LXX. 
 
 " Ah, cruel lord," with gentle voice and mien 
 The lady murmured, and regained his side ; 
 
 " Little thou know'st of woman's faith, I ween. 
 All paths alike save those that would divide ; 
 
 Ungrateful knight — too dearly loved." — " But then," 
 
 Falter'd Gawaine, " you said the same to ten ! " 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 " Ah no ; their deaths alone their lives endeared. 
 Slain for my sake, as I could die for thine ; " 
 
 And while she spoke so lovely she appeared 
 The knight did, blissful, tow'rds her cheek incline — 
 
 But, ere a tender kiss his thanks could say, 
 
 A strong hand jerked the palfrey's neck away. 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 Unseen till then, from out the bosky dell 
 
 Had leapt a huge, black-browed, gigantic wight ; 
 
 Sudden he swung the lady from her selle. 
 And seized that kiss defrauded from the knight. 
 
 While, with loud voice and gest uncouth, he swore 
 
 So fair a cheek he ne'er had kissed before ! 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 With mickle wrath Sir Gawaine sprang from steed. 
 And, quite forgetful of his wonted parle, 
 
 He did at once, without a word, proceed 
 To make a ghost of that presuming carle : 
 
 The carle, nor ghost nor flesh inclined to yield. 
 
 Took to his club, and made the bride his shield. 
 
184 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book VI. 
 
 I! 
 
 
 P 
 
 ^ 11! 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 " Hold, stay thine hand ! " the ha;jless lady cried, 
 As high in air the knight his falchion rears ; 
 
 The carle his laidly jaws distended wide, 
 And — " Ho," he laughed, " for me the sweet one fears. 
 
 Strike, if thou durst, and pierce two hearts in one. 
 
 Or yield the prize — by love already won." 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 In high disdain, the knight of golden tongue 
 Looked this way, that, uncertain where to smite ; 
 
 Still as he looked, and turned, the giant swung 
 The unknightly buckler round from left to right. 
 
 Then said the carle — " What need of steel and strife 1 
 
 A word in time may often save a life. 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 "This lady me prefers, or I mistake, 
 Most ladies like an honest hearty wooer ; 
 
 Abide the issue, she her choice shall make ; 
 Dare you, sir rival, leave the question to her 1 
 
 If so, resheathe your sword, remount your steed, 
 
 I loose the lady, and retire." — " Agreed," 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 Sir Gawaine answered — sure of the result, 
 And charmed the fair so cheaply to deliver ; 
 
 But ladies' hearts are hidden and occult. 
 Deep as the sea, and changeful as the river. 
 
 The carle released the fair, and left her free — 
 
 " Caw," said the raven, from the willow tree. 
 
 Vy 
 
 III! I 
 
BOOK VI.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 185 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 A winsome knight all know was fair Gawaine, 
 No knight more winsome shone in Arthur's court : 
 
 The carle's rough features were of homeliest grain, 
 As shaped by Nature in burlesque and sport ; 
 
 The lady looked and mused, and scanned the two, 
 
 Then made her choice — the carle had spoken true. 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 The knight forsaken, rubbed astounded eyes. 
 Then touched his steed and slowly rode away — 
 
 " Bird," quoth Gawaine, as on the raven flies, 
 " Be peace between us from this blessed day ; 
 
 One single act has made me thine for life, 
 
 Thou hast shown the path by which I lost a wife ! " 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 While thus his grateful thought Sir Gawaine vents, 
 He hears, behind, the carle's Stentorian cries ; 
 
 He turns, he pales, he groans — " The carle repents ! 
 No, by the saints, he keeps her or he dies ! " 
 
 Here at his stirrup stands the panting wight — 
 
 " The lady's hound, restore the hound, sir knight." 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 " The hound," said Gawaine, much relieved, " what hound 1 " 
 And then perceived he that the dog he fed, 
 
 With grateful steps the kindly guest had found, 
 And there stood faithful. — " Friend," Sir Gawaine said, 
 
 " What's just is just ! the dog must have his due. 
 
 The dame had hers, to choose between the two." 
 
m 
 
 •= \ ii 
 
 186 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book VI. 
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 The carle demurred ; but justice was so clear, 
 He'd nought to urge against tlio equal law ; 
 
 He calls the hound, the hound disdains to hear, 
 He nears the hound, the hound expands its jaw ; 
 
 The fangs were strong and sharp, that jaw within. 
 
 The carle drew back — " Sir knight, I fear you win." 
 
 LXXXIII. 
 
 " My friend," replies Gawaine, the ever bland, 
 " I took thy lesson, in return take mine ; 
 
 All human ties, alas, are ropes of sand, • 
 My lot to-day to-morrow may be thine ; 
 
 But never yet the dog our bounty fed, 
 
 Betrayed the kindness or forgot the bread." 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 With that the courteous hand he gravely waved, 
 Nor deemed it prudent longer to delay ; 
 
 Tempt not the reflow, from the ebb just saved ! 
 He spurred his steed and vanished from the way. 
 
 Sure of rebuke, and troubled in his mind, 
 
 An altered man, the carle his fair rejoined. 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 That day the raven led the knight to dine 
 
 Where merry monks spread no abstemious board ; 
 
 Dainty the meat and delicate the wine. 
 
 Sir Gawaine felt his sprightlier self restored ; 
 
 When tow'rds the eve the raven croaked anew, 
 
 And spread the wing for Gawaine to pursue. 
 
BOOK VI.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 187 
 
 ''ou win. 
 
 LXXXVI. 
 
 With clouded brow the pliant knight obeyed, 
 And took his leave and quaffed his stirrup cup ; 
 
 And briskly rode he through glen and glade, 
 Till the fair moon, to speak in prose, was up ; 
 
 Then to the raven now familiar grown. 
 
 He said — " Friend bird, night's made for sleep, you'll own, 
 
 LXXXVII. 
 
 " This oak presents a choice of boughs for you, 
 
 For me a curtain and a grassy mound." 
 Straight to the oak the obedient raven flew. 
 
 And croaked with merry, yet malignant sound. 
 The luckless knight thought nothing of the croak. 
 And laid him down beneath the Fairy's Oak. 
 
 LXXXVIII. 
 
 Of evil fame was Nannau's antique tree, 
 Yet styled " the hollow oak of demon race ; " * 
 
 But blithe Gwyn-ab-Nudd's elphin family 
 Were gay demons of the slandered place ; 
 
 And ne'er in scene more elphin, near and far. 
 
 On dancing fairies glanced a cloudless star. 
 
 LX.XXIX. 
 
 Whether thy chafing torrent, rock-born Caine, 
 Flash through the delicate birch and glossy elm. 
 
 Or prison'd Mawddacht clang his triple chain 
 Of waters fleeing to the happier realm. 
 
 Where his course broadening smiles along the land : 
 
 So souls grow tranquil as their thoughts expand. 
 
 * Ic the domain oflNannau was standiiier to within a period comparatively recent, 
 the legendary oak called Derwen Ceubren yr Ellyll— the hollow oak, the hautit of 
 
 demons. 
 
 t Mawddach, with its three waterfalls. 
 
188 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book VI. 
 
 xc. 
 
 High over subject vales the brow serene 
 
 Of the lone mountain looked on moonlit skies ; 
 
 Wide glades far opening into swards of green, 
 "With shimmering foliage of a thousand dyes, 
 
 And tedded tufts of heath, and ivied boles 
 
 Of trees, and wild flowers scenting bosky knolls : 
 
 xci. 
 
 And herds of deer as slight as Jura's roe,* 
 Or Iran's shy gazelle, on sheenest places, 
 
 Grouped still, or flitted the far alleys thro* ; 
 The fairy quarry for the fairy chaces ; 
 
 Or wheeled the bat, brushing o'er brake and scaur, 
 
 Lured by the moth, as lures the moth the star. 
 
 XCII. 
 
 Sir Gawaine -^Tept — Sir Gawainc slept not long, 
 His ears were tickled, and his nose was tweaked ; 
 
 Light feet ran quick his stalwart limbs along. 
 
 Light fingers pinched him, and light voices squeaked. 
 
 He oped his eyes, the left and then the right. 
 
 Fair was the scene, and hideous was his fright ! 
 
 XCIII. 
 
 The tiny people swarm around, and o'er him. 
 Here on his breast they lead the morris dance, 
 
 There, in each ray diagonal before him. 
 
 They wheel, leap, pirouette, caper, shoot askance. 
 
 Climb row on row each other's pea-green shoulder. 
 
 And mow and point upon the shocked beholder. 
 
 * The deer in the park of Nannau arA singularly small. 
 
 M ' 
 
BOOK VI.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 189 
 
 XCIV. 
 
 And some had faces lovelier than Cupido's, 
 With rose-bud lips, all dimpling o'er with glee ; 
 
 And some had brows as ominous as Dido's, 
 When Ilion's pious traitor put to sea ; 
 
 Some had bull heads, some lion's, but in small. 
 
 And some— the finer drest--no heads at all. 
 
 xov. 
 
 By mortal dangers scared, the wise resort 
 
 To means fugacious, licet et Ucehit ; 
 But he who settles in a fairy's court. 
 
 Loses that option, sedet el sedebit ; 
 Thrice Gawaine strove to stir, nor stirred a jot. 
 Charms, cramps, and torments nailed him to the spot. 
 
 xcvi. 
 
 Thus of his limbs deprived, the ingenious knight 
 Straightway betook him to his golden tongue — 
 
 " Angels," quoth he, " or fairies, with delight 
 I see the race my friends the bards have sung j 
 
 Much honoured that, in any way expedient. 
 
 You make a ball-room of your most obedient." 
 
 XCVII. 
 
 Floated a sound of laughter, musical 
 As when in summer noon, melodious bees 
 
 Cluster o'er jasmine buds, or as the fall 
 Of silver bells, on the Arabian breeze ; 
 
 What time, with chiming feet in palmy shades. 
 
 Move, round the softened Moor, his Georgian maids. 
 
M 
 
 k 't 
 
 190 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book VI, 
 
 XCVIII. 
 
 Forth from the rest there stepped a princely fay — 
 " And well, sir mortal, dost thou speak," quoth he, 
 
 " We elves are seldom froward to the gay, 
 Rise up, and welcome to our company." 
 
 Sir Gawaine won his footing with a spring, 
 
 Low bowed the knight, as low the fairy king. 
 
 xcix. 
 
 " By the bright diadem of dews congealed, 
 And purple robe of pranksome butterfly. 
 
 Your royal rank," said Gawaine, " is revealed. 
 Yet mo**^, methinks, by your majestic eye ; 
 
 Of kings writh mien august I know but two. 
 
 Men have their Arthur, — happier fairies, you." 
 
 0. 
 
 " Methought," replied the Elf, " thy first accost 
 Proclaimed thee one of Arthur's peerless train ; 
 
 Elsewhere alas ! — our later age hp.th lost 
 The blithe good-breeding of King Saturn's reign, 
 
 When, some four thousand years ago, with Fauns, 
 
 We Fays made merry on Arcadian lawns. 
 
 01. 
 
 " Time flees so fast it seems but yesterday ! 
 
 And life is brief for fairies as for men." 
 " Ha," said Gawaine, " can fairies pass away 1" 
 
 " Pass like the mist on Arran's wave, what then 1 
 At least we're young so long as we survive ; 
 Our years six thousand — I have numbered five. 
 
 
BOOK VI.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 101 
 
 oil. 
 
 '' But we have stumbled on a dismal theme ; 
 
 As always happens when one meets a man — 
 Ho ! stop that zephyr ! — Robin catch that beam ! 
 
 And now, my friend, we'll feast it while we can." 
 The moonbeam halts, the zephyr bows his wing, 
 Light through the leaves the laughing people spring. 
 
 cm. 
 
 Then Gawaine felt as if he skirred the air, 
 His brain grew dizzy, and his breath was gone ; 
 
 He stopped at last, and such inviting fare 
 Never plump monk set lustful eyes upon. 
 
 Wild sweet-briars girt the banquet, but the brake 
 
 Oped where in moonlight rippled Bala's lake. 
 
 CIV. 
 
 Such dainty cheer — such rush of revelry — 
 Such silver laughter — such arch happy faces — 
 
 Such sportive quarrels from excess of glee — 
 Hushed up with such sly innocent embraces, 
 
 Might well make twice six thousand years appear 
 
 To elfin minds a sadly nipped career. 
 
 cv. 
 
 The banquet o'er, the royal Fay intent 
 To do all honour to King Arthur's knight. 
 
 Smote with his rod the bank on which they leant. 
 And Fairy land flashed glorious on the sight ; 
 
 Flashed, through a silvery, soft, translucent mist, 
 
 The opal shafts and domes of amethyst ; 
 
f 
 
 t 
 
 r 
 
 I 
 
 t 
 i . 
 
 192 
 
 KINO ARTHUR, 
 
 [book VI. 
 
 CVI. 
 
 Flashed founts in shells of pearl, which crystal walls 
 And phosphor lights of myriad hues redouble ; 
 
 There, in the blissful subterranean halls. 
 When morning wakes the world of human trouble, 
 
 Glide the gay race ; each sound our discord knows, 
 
 Faint-heard above, but lulls them to repose. 
 
 CVII. 
 
 Gawaine, blush ! Alas ! that gorgeous sight, 
 But woke the latent mammon in the man. 
 
 While fairy treasures shone upon the knight, 
 His greedy thoughts on lands and castles ran ; 
 
 He stretched his hands, he felt the fingers itch, 
 
 " Sir Fay," quoth he, " you must be monstrous rich !" 
 
 CVIII. 
 
 The words scarce fell from those unlucky lips. 
 Than down rushed darkness, flooding all the place ; 
 
 His feet a fairy in a twinkling trips ; 
 A swarm of wasps seem settling on his face ; 
 
 Pounce on their prey the tiny torturers flew. 
 
 And sang this moral while they pinched him blue : 
 
 CHOEUS OF PREACHING FAIRIES. 
 
 Joy to him who fairy treasures 
 
 With a fairy's eye can see ; 
 Woe to him who counts and measures 
 
 What the worth in coin may be. 
 
 Gems from withered leaves we fashion 
 For the spirit pure from stain ; 
 
 Grasp them T^dth a sordid passion, 
 And they turn to leaves again. 
 
BOOK VI.] 
 
 KINO ARTHUR, 
 
 103 
 
 CHORUS OP PINCHING FAIRIES. 
 
 Here and tliere, and everywhere, 
 Tramp and cramp him inch by inch ; 
 
 Fair is fair, — to each his share. 
 You shall preach and we will pinch. 
 
 CHORUS OF PREACHING FAIRIES. 
 
 Fairy treasures are not rated 
 
 By their value in the mart ; 
 Deep in secret earth created 
 
 For the coffers of the heart. 
 
 Dost thou covet fairy money ? 
 
 Rifle but the blossom bells-^ 
 Like the wild bee, shape the honey 
 
 Into golden cloister-cells. 
 
 CHORUS OF PINCHING FAIRIES. 
 
 Spirit hear it, flesh revere it ! 
 
 Stamp the lesson inch by inch ! 
 Rightly merit, flesh and spirit, 
 
 This the preaching, that the pinch ! 
 
 CHORUS OF PREACHING FAIRIES. 
 
 Wretched mortal, once invited, 
 Fairy land was thine at will ; 
 
 Every little star had lighted 
 Revels when the world was still. 
 
 Every bank a gate had granted 
 
 To the topaz-paven halls — 
 Every wave had trolled enchanted 
 
 From our crystal music-falls. 
 
 N 
 
191 
 
 KING Aumun. 
 
 [book VI. 
 
 <II(»IU1S OK riN(MIIN(J KAIIUKH. 
 
 Koiind liiin >vin^iiig, h1uu|> aiul Htiiigiug, 
 ('lip liiin, nip him, iiioli hy iiu;h, 
 
 ScriiioiiH Htii^iii^, wintloni ))riiiKing, 
 roini llio moml witli a [tiiicli. 
 
 CIIOIU'S {)V IMIKA<IIIN(J KAIHIK8. 
 
 Now tlu' Hpcll iH loHt for ovor, 
 AikI ilio coniiuon oarlh ih ihiiiu ; 
 
 Count (ho triillic on ilio rivor, 
 Wrigli tlio ingolH in ilio tnino ; 
 
 Look arounti, uloft, antl umlor, 
 With an (<y(i upon tho lumi ; 
 
 (lono tho happy worhl of M'on<lor 1 
 \Vo(<, thy fairy hind in h)Ht I 
 
 CIIOIU'S OK IMN('HIN(3 KAIUIES. 
 
 Nature haro is, >vhoru ihino air is, 
 OuNtoni cramps tlioo inch by inch ; 
 
 And wlicn oaro in, hnnian fairies 
 Troat^h and— vaniuh at u pinch ! 
 
 (nx. 
 
 Sudden tiu'V cease —for shrill crowed chanticlocr ; 
 
 drey o\\ the (hirkuoss broke tlio glimmering light; 
 Slowly usNured he was not iUmuI with fear 
 
 And ])iMche.;, cautious peered around tho knight; 
 lie found himself replaced beneath tho oak, 
 And heard with rising wrath tho chuckling croak. 
 
BOOK VI.] 
 
 KINO Aitrnuit. 
 
 105 
 
 :h. 
 
 K'"g. 
 
 niOH. 
 
 (!X. 
 
 " 1)ir(l of binU, inuMt inoiiHirouM and maliflc, 
 Wt^ro ilivHo the inHH to whicli tl»oii wt* it to leail ] 
 
 Now gJiHluMl with hwohIh, now chiwcd by iinpH honiiic ; 
 WivoH — wouihIh —crainpH pindmH! rn-ciouHgiiulo imhMMl ! 
 
 Ohku on IVlion piling, crimo on crime : 
 
 Wrett'lj, Have tliy tlirottle, and repent in time !" 
 
 Thus Hpoke the knight— the raven gave a grunt, 
 
 That raven liked not threats to life or limb ; 
 Th'ui with due sense of the unjust affront, 
 
 Hopped supercilious forth, and summoned him — 
 His mail once more the aching knight endued, 
 Limped to his steed, and ruefully pursued. 
 
 lES. 
 
 (;xii. 
 
 lanticloor ; 
 
 nering light ; 
 
 ar 
 
 the knight ; 
 
 oak, 
 
 ing croak. 
 
 The sun was high when all the glorious sea 
 
 Flashed through the boughs that overhung the way. 
 
 And down a path as rough as path could be, 
 The bird flew sullen, delving towards the bay ; 
 
 The moody knight dismounts, an<l leads with pain 
 
 The stumbling steed, oft backing from the rein. 
 
 C'XIII. 
 
 One ray of hope alone illumed his soul, 
 
 " The bird will lead thco to the ocean coast," 
 
 The wizard's words had clearly marked the goal ; 
 The goal once won — of course the guide was lost : 
 
 While thus consoled, its croak the raven gave, 
 
 Folded its wings and hopped into a cav<'. 
 
196 
 
 Kim ARTHUn. 
 
 [book VI. 
 
 CXIV. 
 
 Sir Gawaine paused — Sir Gawaine drew his sword : 
 The bird unseen screamed loud for him to follow — 
 
 His soul the knight committed to our Lord, 
 Stepped on — and fell ten yards into a hollow ; 
 
 No time had he the ground thus gained to note, 
 
 Ere six strong hands laid gripe upon his throat. 
 
 cxv. 
 
 It was a creek, three sides with rock enclosed, 
 The fourth stretched, opening on the golden sand ; 
 
 Dull on the wave an anchored ship reposed ; 
 A boat with peaks of brass lay on the strand ; 
 
 And in that creek caroused the grisliest crew 
 
 Thor ever nursed, or Rana* ever knew. 
 
 cxvi. 
 
 But little cared the knight for mortal foes, 
 From those strong hands he wrenched himself away. 
 
 Sprang to his feet, and dealt so dour his blows. 
 Cleft to the chin a grim Berserker lay, 
 
 A Fin fell next, and next a giant Dane — 
 
 " Ten thousand pardons !" said the bland Gawaine. 
 
 CXVII. 
 
 But ev'n in that not democratic age 
 Too large majorities were stubborn things. 
 
 Nor long could one man strive against the rage 
 Of half a hundred thick-skulled ocean kiigs-^ 
 
 Four felons crept between him and the rocks, 
 
 Lifted four clubs and felled him like an ox* 
 
 Ban, or Rana, the malignant goddess of the sea, in Scandinavian mythology. 
 
[book VI. 
 
 BOOK VI.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 197 
 
 lis sword : 
 to follow — 
 
 d, 
 
 oUow ; 
 • note, 
 hroat. 
 
 )sed, 
 
 )lden sand ; 
 'd • 
 
 trand ; 
 rew 
 
 himself away, 
 blows, 
 
 Gawaine. 
 
 ■^i 
 
 »g8, 
 
 3 rage 
 ki'igs— ^ 
 cks, 
 
 Xi 
 
 ndiuavian mythology. 
 
 CXVIII. 
 
 When next the knight unclosed his dizzy eyes, 
 His feet were fettered and his arms were bound — 
 
 Below the ocean, and above the skies ; 
 
 Sails flapped — cords crackled ; long he gazed around. 
 
 Still where he gazed, fierce eyes and naked swords 
 
 Peered through flapping sails and crackling cords — 
 
 ex IX. 
 
 A chief before him leant upon his club. 
 
 With hideous visage bushed with tawny hair. 
 
 " Who plays at bowls must count upon a rub," 
 Said the bruised Gawaine with a smiling air ; 
 
 " Brave sir, permit me humbly to suggest 
 
 You make your gyves too tight across the breast." 
 
 cxx. 
 
 Grinned the grim chief, vouchsafing no reply ; 
 
 The knight resumed — " Your pleasant looks bespeak 
 A mind as gracious ; — may I ask you why 
 
 You fish for Christians in King Arthur's creek 1 " 
 " The kings of creeks," replied that hideous man, 
 " Are we, the Vikings and the sons of Ran ! 
 
 cxxi. 
 
 " Your beacon fires allured us to your strands, 
 The dastard herdsmen fled before our feet. 
 
 Thee, Odin's raven guided to our hands ; 
 Thrice happy man, Valhalla's boar to eat ! 
 
 The raven's choice suggests a God's idea, 
 
 And marks thee out — a sacrifice to Freya ! " 
 
> . 
 
 198 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book VI. 
 
 CXXII. 
 
 As spoke the Viking, over Gawaine's head, 
 Circled the raven with triumphal caw ; 
 
 Then o'er the cliffs, still hoarse with glee, it fled. 
 Thrice a deep breath the knight relieved did draw. 
 
 Fair seemed the voyage — pleasant seemed the haven : 
 
 " Blest saints," he cried, " I have escaped the raven ! " 
 
 It 
 
[book VI. 
 
 ;fled. 
 did draw, 
 he haven : 
 le raven ! " 
 
 Book the Seuenth, 
 
l! 
 
 ARGUMENT. 
 
 Arthur and the Lady of the Lake— They land on the Metenr Isle— Which then 
 sinks to the Halls below — Arthur beholds the Forest springinsr from a single stem — 
 He tells his errand to the Phantom, and rejects the fruits that it proflfers him in lieu of 
 the sword— He is conducted by the Phantom to the entrance of the caves through 
 which he must pass alone— He reaches the Coral Hall of the Three Kings— The Statue 
 Crowned with thorns— The Asps and the Vulture, and the Diamond Sword— The Choice 
 of the Three Arches— He turns from the flrst and second arch, and beholds himself in 
 the third, a corpse — The sleeping King rises at Arthur's question — * if his death shall be 
 in vain?'— The Vision of times to be— Coeur de Lion and the age of Chivalry— The 
 Tudors— Henry VII.— the restorer ofthe line of Arthur and the founder of civil Freedom 
 —Henry VHI. and the revolution of Thought— Elizabeth and the Age of Poetry— The 
 Union of Cymrian and Saxon,under the sway of " Crowned Liberty"— Arthur makes his 
 choice, and attempts, but in vain, to draw the sword from the Rock— The Statue with 
 the thorn-wreath addresses him— Arthur called upon to sarcifice the Dove— His reply — 
 The glimpse of Heaven— The trance which succeeds, and in which the King is borne 
 to the sea-shores. 
 
 ih^ 
 
 !!! 
 
Book Beuen. 
 
 I. 
 
 S when, in Autumn nights, and Arctic skies. 
 An angel makes a cloud his noiseless car, 
 And thro' caerulean silence, silent flies 
 
 From antique Hesper to some dawning star. 
 So still, so swift, along the windless tides 
 Her vapour-sail the Lake's mute Lady guides. 
 
 II. 
 
 Along the sheen, along the glassy sheen. 
 Amid the lull of lucent night they go ; 
 
 Till, in the haven of an islet green, 
 Murmuring thro' reeds, the gentle waters flow : 
 
 Shoots the dim pinnace to the gradual strand, 
 
 And the pale Phantom, beck'ning, glides to land. 
 
 III. 
 
 Her the King followed, yet scarce touched the shore ; 
 
 When slowly, slowly sunk the meteor-isle, 
 Fathom on fathom, to the sparry floor 
 
 Of alabaster shaft and prophyr-pile 
 Built as by Nereus for his own retreat, 
 Or the Nymph-mother of the silver feet. 
 
 W 
 
 w 
 
i 
 
 I 
 
 
 202 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book Vll. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Far, thro' the crystal lymph, the pillared halls 
 Went lengthening on in vistaed majesty ; 
 
 The waters sapped not the enchanted walls, 
 Nor shut their roofless silence from the sky ; 
 
 But every beam that gilds this world of ours 
 
 Broke sparkling downward into diamond showers ; 
 
 V. 
 
 And the strange magic of the Place bestowed 
 Its own strange life upon the startled King. 
 
 Round him, like air, the subtle waters flow3d ; 
 As round the Naiad flows her native spring ; 
 
 Domelike collapsed the azure ; — moonlight clear 
 
 Filled the melodious silvery atmosphere — 
 
 VI. 
 
 Melodious with the chaunt of distant falls 
 Of sportive waves, within the waves at play. 
 
 And infant springs that bubble up the. halls 
 In varying jets, on which the broken ray 
 
 Weaves its slight iris — hymniag while they rise 
 
 To that smooth calm their restless life supplies, 
 
 VII. 
 
 Like secret thoughts in some still poet's soul, 
 Nourished unseen till they reflect the stars j 
 
 But overhead a trembling shadow stole, 
 
 A gloom that leaf-like quivered on the spars. 
 
 And that quick shadow, ever moving, fell 
 
 From a vast Tree with root immoveable ; 
 
BOOK VII.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 203 
 
 VIII. 
 
 In linked arcades, and interwoven bowers 
 Swept the long forest from that single stem : 
 
 And, flashing through the foliage, fruits or flowers 
 In jewelled clusters, glowed with every gem 
 
 Golconda hideth from the greed of kings ; 
 
 Or Lybian gryphons guard with drowsy wings. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Here blushed the ruby, warm as Charity,* 
 There the mild topaz, wrath-assuaging, shone 
 
 Eadiant as Mer' y ;— like an angel's eye. 
 
 Or a stray splendour from the Father's throne, 
 
 The sapphire chaste a heavenlier lustre gave 
 
 To that blue heaven reflected on the wave. 
 
 X. 
 
 Never from India's cave, or Oman's sea 
 Swart Afrite wreathed for scornful Peri's brow, 
 
 Such gems as, wasted on that "Wonder-tree, 
 Paled Sheban treasures in each careless bough ; 
 
 And every bough which the light wavelet heaves, 
 
 Quivers to music with the quivering leaves. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Then first the Sovereign Lady of the deep 
 
 Spoke ; — -and the waves and whispering leaves were still, 
 " Ever I rise before the eyes that weep 
 
 When, born from sorrow. Wisdom wakes the will ; 
 But few behold the shadow thro' the dark. 
 And few will dare the venture of the bark. 
 
 * In heraldir mysteries, the ruby is the emblem of charity— the topaz assuages 
 choler and fieuzy— the sapphire preserves chastity, &c.— See Sylvanus MoRaAK's 
 Sphere of Gtntry. 
 
 W 
 

 11: 
 
 204 
 
 KING ARTHUR, 
 
 [book VII, 
 
 XII. 
 
 ** And now amid the Cuthites' temple halls 
 0*er which the waters undestroying flow, 
 
 Heark'ning the mysteries hymned from silver falls 
 Or from the springs that, gushing up below. 
 
 Gleam to the surface, whence to Heaven updrawn. 
 
 They form the clouds that harbinger the dawn, — 
 
 XIII. 
 
 " Say what the treasures which my deeps enfold 
 That thou would'st bear to the terrestrial day 1 " 
 
 Then Arthur answered — and his quest he told. 
 The prophet mission which his steps obey — 
 
 " Here springs the forest from the single stem : 
 
 I seek the falchion welded from the gem." 
 
 XIV. 
 
 " Pause," said the 1 .lantom, " and survey the tree ! 
 
 More worth one fruit that weighs a branchlet down. 
 Than all which mortals in the sword can see. 
 
 Thou ask'st the falchion to defend a crown — 
 But seize the ^ruit, and to thy grasp decreed 
 More realms than Ormuzd lavished on the Mede ; 
 
 XV. 
 
 " Than great Darius left his doomed son, 
 From Scythian wastes to Abyssinian caves ; 
 
 From Nimrod's tomb in silenced Babylon 
 To Argive island fretting Asian waves ; 
 
 Than changed to sceptres the rude Lictor-rods, 
 
 And placed the worm called Caesar with the gods. 
 
 
BOOK VII.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 205 
 
 XVI. 
 
 " Pause — take thy choice — each gem a host can buy, 
 Link race on race to Conquest's rushing car ; 
 
 No ghastly Genius here thou need'st defy, 
 The fruits unguarded and the fiends afar ; 
 
 But dark the perils that surround the Sword, 
 
 And slight its worth — ambitious if its Lord ; 
 
 XVII. 
 
 " Weak to invade, though potent to defend, 
 Its blade will shiver in a conqueror's clasp ; 
 
 A weapon meeter for the herdsman's end. 
 When ploughshares turn to falchions in his grasp. 
 
 Some churl who seeks to guard his humble hearth — 
 
 A Hero's soul should hunger for the Earth ! " 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 " Spirit or Sorceress," — said the frowning King, 
 " Fame like the sun illumes an universe ; 
 
 But life and joy both fame and sun should bring ; 
 And God ordains no glory for a curse. 
 
 What need of falchions save to guard a land ? 
 
 'Tis the Churl's cause that nerves the Hero's hand. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 " Not mine the crowns the Persian lost or won. 
 Tiaras glittering over kneeling slaves ; 
 
 Mine be the sword that freed at Marathon, 
 The unborn races by the Father-graves — 
 
 Or stayed the Orient in the Spartan pass, 
 
 And carved on Time, thy name, Leonidae ! " 
 
!i 
 
 I 
 
 ( 
 
 'i! 
 
 206 
 
 KINO ARTHUR. 
 
 [book VII. 
 
 XX. 
 
 The Sibyl of the Sources of the Deep 
 Heard nor replied, but indistinct and wan 
 
 Went as a Dream that thro* the worlds of Sleep 
 Leads the charmed soul of labour-wearied man ; 
 
 And ev'n as man and dream, so, side by side, 
 
 Glideth the mortal with the gliding guide. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Glade after glade, beneath that forest tree 
 They pass, — till sudden, looms amid the waves, 
 
 A dismal rock, hugely and heavily, 
 
 With crags distorted vaulting horrent caves ; 
 
 A single moonbeam thro' the hollow creeps : 
 
 Glides with the beam the Lady of the deeps. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Then Arthur felt the dove that at his breast 
 Lay nestling warm— stir quick and quivering, 
 
 His soothing hand the crisped plumes carest ; 
 Slow went they on, the Lady and the King : 
 
 And, ever as they went, before their way 
 
 O'er prisoned waters lengthening stretched the ray. 
 
 XXIIIi 
 
 Kow the black jaws as of a hell they gain ; 
 
 Pauses the Lake's pale Hecate. " Lo," she said, 
 " Yonder, the Genii thou invadest reign. 
 
 Alone thy feet the threshold floors must tread— » 
 No aid from Powers not human canst thou win ; 
 Trust to thy soul, and dare the Shapes within." 
 
 '«_! 
 
BOOK VII.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 207 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 She spoke to vanish- -but the single ray 
 Shot from the unseen moon, still palely breaks 
 
 The awe that rests with midnight on the way ; 
 Faithful as Hope when Wisdom's self forsakes- 
 
 The buoyant beam the lonely man pursued — 
 And, feeling God, he felt not solitude. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 No fiend obscene, no giant spectre grim, 
 (Born or of Runic or Arabian Song,) 
 
 Affronts the progress, thro' the gallery dim, 
 Into the sudden light which flames along 
 
 The waves, and dyes the stillness of their flood 
 
 To one red horror like a lake ot blood. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 And now, he enters, with that lurid tide, 
 Where time-long corals shape a mighty hall ; 
 
 Three curtained arches on the dexter side. 
 And on the floors a ruby pedestal, 
 
 On which, with marble lips, that life-like smiled, 
 
 Stood the fair Statue of a crowned Child : 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 It smiled, and yet its crown was wreathed of thorns^ 
 And round its limbs coiled foul the viper's brood ; 
 
 Near to that Child a rough crag, deluge-torn, 
 Jagged with sharp shadow abrupt, the luminous flood ; 
 
 And a huge Vulture from the summit, there, 
 
 Watched with dull hunger in its glassy stare. 
 
208 
 
 KtNO ARTHUlt 
 
 [book VI 1. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 Below the Vulture in the rock ensheathed, 
 
 Shone out the hilt-beam of the diamond glaive ; 
 
 And all the hall one hue of crimson wreathed, 
 And all the galleries vistaed thro* the wave ; 
 
 As flushed the coral fathom-deep below, 
 
 Lit into glory from the ruby's glow. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 On thrones blood-red, there, sate three giant forms, 
 Rigid the first, as Death ; — with lightless eyes 
 
 And brows as hushed as deserts, when the storms 
 Lock the tornado in the Nubian skies ; — 
 
 Dead on dead knees the large hands nerveless rest. 
 
 And dead the front droops heavy on the breast. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 The second shape with bright and kindling eye. 
 And aspect haughty with triumphant life, 
 
 Like a young Titan reared its crest on high, 
 Crowned as for sway and harnessed as for strife ; 
 
 But o'er one half his image there was cast, 
 
 A shadow from the throne where sate the last. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 And this, the third and last, seemed in that sleep 
 Which neighbours waking in a summer's dawn, 
 
 AVLen dreams, relaxing, scarce their captive keep t 
 Half o'er his face a veil transparent drawn, 
 
 Stirred with quick sighs unquiet and disturbed, 
 
 Which told the impatient soul the slumber curbed* 
 
 ^m 
 
BOOK VII.] 
 
 KING AIITIIUR. 
 
 209 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 Thrilled, but undaunted, on the Adventurer strode. 
 Then spoke the youthful Genius with the crown 
 
 And armour : " Hail to our august abode ! 
 Guardless we greet the seeker of Renown. 
 
 In our least terror cravens Death behold, 
 
 But vainly frown our direst for the bold." 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 (( 
 
 And who are ye 1 " the wondering King replied, 
 ** On whose large aspects reigns the awe sublime 
 Of fabled judges, that o'er souls preside 
 
 In Radamanthian Halls 1 " " The Lords of Time," 
 Answered the Giant, " And our realms are three, 
 The What has been, what is, and what shall be ! 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 " But while we speak my brother's shadow creeps 
 Over the life-blood that it freezes fast ; 
 
 Haste, while the king that shall discrown me sleeps 
 Nor lose the Present,— lo how dead the Past ! 
 
 Accept the trials, Prince beloved by Heaven, 
 
 To the deep heart — that nobler reason, — given. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 " Thou hast rejected in the Cuthite's halls 
 The fruits that flush Ambition's dazzling tree. 
 
 The Conqueror's lust of blood-stained coronals ; — 
 Again thine ordeal in thy judgment be ! 
 
 Nor here shall empire need the arm of crime — 
 
 But Fate achieve the lot thou ask'st from Time. 
 O 
 
 '4 
 
 
 9^^ 
 
 V 
 
 
210 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book VII. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 *' Behold the threefold Future at thy choice, 
 
 Choose right, and win from Fame the master spell." 
 
 Then the concealing veils, as ceased the voice, 
 From the three arches with a clangor fell, 
 
 And clear, as scenes with Thespian wonders rife, 
 
 Gave to his view the Lemur-shapes of life. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 Lo the fair stream amidst that pleasant vale, 
 Wherein his youth held careless holiday ; 
 
 The stream is blithe with many a silken sail, 
 The vale with many a proud pavilion gay, 
 
 And in the centre of the rosy ring, 
 
 Propt on his arm, reclines himself, the King. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 All, all the same as when his golden prime 
 
 Lay in the lap of Life's soft Arcady ; 
 When Youth and Pleasure owned no foe but Time, 
 
 And, scarcely conscious of the warning sigh. 
 His one desire was as * a Summer day. 
 Mid blooms and sweets to dream himself away.* 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 " Behold," the Genius said, " is that thy choice 
 A^ once it was ? " " Nay, I have wept since then," 
 
 Answered the mortal with a mournful voice, 
 " When the dews fall, the stars arise for men ! " 
 
 So turned he to the second arch to see 
 
 The imperial peace of settled majesty ; - 
 
[book VII. 
 
 BOOK VII.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 211 
 
 lioice, 
 
 1 
 
 le master spell." 
 
 H 
 
 e voice, 
 
 'fli 
 
 r fell, 
 
 mm 
 
 nders rife. 
 
 W^m 
 
 life. 
 
 -''M^I^K 
 
 > vale, 
 
 \ 
 
 day; 
 
 •i 
 
 n sail, 
 
 1 
 
 1 g'-^y. 
 
 1 
 
 King. 
 
 ime 
 
 )e but Time, 
 ng sigh, 
 
 ilf away.* 
 
 y choice 
 jpt since then," 
 k^oice, 
 for men ! " 
 
 XL. 
 
 The kingly throne, himself the dazzling king ; 
 
 Bright arms, and jewelled vests, and purple stoles ; . 
 While silvery winds, from many a music-string, 
 
 Rippled the wave of glittering banderolls : 
 From mitred priests and ermined barons, clear 
 Came the loud praise which monarchs love to hear. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 " Doth this content thee ? " " Ay," the Prince replieci, 
 And towered erect, with empire on his brow ; 
 
 " Ay, here at once a Monarch may decide. 
 Be but the substance worthy of the show ! 
 
 Courts are not States — let me see men ! — behind 
 
 Where stands the People ? — Genius, lift the blind ! " 
 
 XLII. 
 
 Slow fades the pageant, and the Phantom stage 
 As slowly filled with squalid, ghastly forms ; 
 
 Here, over fireless hearths cowered shivering Age 
 And blew with feeble breath dead embers ; — stoims 
 
 Hung in the icy welkin ; and the bare 
 
 Earth lay forlorn in Winter's charnel air j 
 
 XLIII, 
 
 And Youth all labour-bowed, with withered look. 
 Knelt by a rushing stream whose waves were gold. 
 
 And sought with lean strong hands to grasp the brook. 
 And clutch the glitter lapsing from the hold, 
 
 Till with mal laugh it ceased, and, tottering down 
 
 Fell, and on frowning skies scowled bac!v Ihe frown. 
 
212 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book VII. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 No careless Childhood laughed disportingly, 
 
 But dwarfed, pale mandrakes with a century's gloom 
 
 On infant brows, beneath a Poison-tree 
 With skeleton fingers plied a ghastly loom, 
 
 Mocking in cynic jests life's gravest things, 
 
 They wove gay King-robes, muttering " What are Kings 1 " 
 
 XLV. 
 
 And thro' that dreary Hades to and fro, 
 Stalked all unheeded the Tartarean guests ; 
 
 Grim Discontent that loathes the Gods, and Woe 
 Clasping dead infants to her milkless breasts ; 
 
 And madding Hate, and Force with iron heel, 
 
 And voiceless Vengeance sharpening secret steel. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 And, hand in hand, a Gorgon-visaged Pair, 
 
 Envy and Famine, halt with livid smile. 
 Listening the demon-orator. Despair, 
 
 That, with a glozing and malignant guile. 
 Seems sent the gates of Paradise to ope, 
 And lures to Hell by stimulating Hope. 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 " Can such things be below and God above 1 " 
 Faltered the King ;— Replied the Genius—" Nay, 
 
 This is the state that sages most approve ; 
 This is Man civilized ! — the perfect sway 
 
 Of Merchant Kings ; — the ripeness of the art 
 
 Wliich cheapens men — the Elysium of the Mart. 
 
[book VII. 
 
 BOOK VII.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 213 
 
 itury's gloom 
 
 )m, 
 
 ^hat are Kings ? " 
 
 sts ; 
 id Woe 
 easts ; 
 leel, 
 p stee]. 
 
 J— "Nay, 
 
 art 
 Mart. 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 " But what to thee, if Pomp hath its extremes ? 
 
 Not thine the shadow — Go, enjoy the light ! 
 Begirt by guards, shut danger from thy drep.ms ; 
 
 That serves thy grandeur which appals thy sight ; 
 From its own entrails if the worm supply 
 The silken purple — let it weave and die ! " 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 " Demon — rather," cried the Poet-king, 
 " Let me all lonely, on the heav'n-kist hill. 
 
 Rove with the hunter,— be my drink the spring. 
 The root my banquet, and the night wind shrill 
 
 Howl o'er my couch with the wild fox — than know 
 
 One pomp which mocks that Lazar-house of woe. 
 
 L. 
 
 " Thou saidst, * Give dues to Caesar,' — Lord ! secure 
 The miffhtier tribute Caesars owe to men ! 
 
 Thou who hast oped God's kingdom to the Poor, 
 Reveal Humanity to Kings ! — agen 
 
 Descend, Messiah ! — and to the earth make known 
 
 How Christ had reigned if on the Caesar's throne ! " 
 
 11. 
 
 So, with indignant tears in manly eyes 
 Turned the great Archetype of Chivalry ; 
 
 Lo to the third arch and last ! — In moonlight rise 
 The Cymrian rocks dark-shining from the sea, 
 
 And all those rocks, some patriot war, forgone. 
 
 Hallows with grassy mound and starlit stone. 
 
h 1 
 
 1 I 
 
 214 
 
 KING AimiUlL 
 
 [book VI 1. 
 
 I I 
 
 :' i 
 
 LII. 
 
 And where the softest falls the loving light, 
 He sees himself, stretched lifeless on the sward. 
 
 And by the corpse, with sacred robes of white 
 Leans on his ivory harp a lonely Bard ; 
 
 Yea, to the Dead the sole still watchers given 
 
 Are the Fame-Singer and the Hosts of Heaven. 
 
 LIII. 
 
 But on the kingly front the kingly crown 
 
 Rests ; — the pale right hand grasps the diamond glaive ; 
 The brow, on which ev'n strife hath left no frown, 
 
 Calm in the halo glory gives the brave. 
 " Mortal, is tins thy choice 1 " the Genius cried. 
 " Here Death ; there Pleasure ; and there Pomp ! — decide ! " 
 
 LIV. 
 
 " Death," answer'd Arthur, " is nor good nor ill 
 Save in the ends for which men die — and Death 
 
 Can oft achieve what Life may not fulfil. 
 
 And kindle earth with Valour's dying breath ; 
 
 But oh, one answer to one terror deign. 
 
 My land — my people ! — is that death in vain ] " 
 
 LV. 
 
 Mute drooped the Genius, but the unquiet form 
 
 Dreaming beside its brother king, arose, 
 Tho' dreaming still : As leaps the sudden storm 
 
 On sands Arabian, as with spasms and throes 
 Bursts the Fire-mount by soft Parthenope, 
 Rose the ve'-3d Genius of the things to be : 
 
 i ii 
 
 I i 
 
COOK VII.] 
 
 KING ARTHUll 
 
 215 
 
 LVI. 
 
 Shook all tlie hollow caves ; — with tortured groan. 
 
 Shook to their roots in the far core of hell ; 
 Deep howled to deep — the monumental throne 
 
 Of the dead giant rocked ; — each coral cell 
 Flashed quivering billowlike. Unshaken smiled, 
 From the calm ruby base the thorn-crowned Child. 
 
 LVII. 
 
 The Genius rose ; and thro' the phantom arch 
 Glided the Shadows of His own pale dreams ; 
 
 The mortal saw the long procession march 
 Beside that image which his lemur seems : 
 
 An armed King — three, lions on his shield* — 
 
 First by the Bard-watched Shadow paused and kneeled. 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 Kneeled, there, his train — upon each mailed breast 
 A red cross stampt ; and deep as from a sea 
 
 With all its waves — full voices murmured — " Rest 
 Ever unburied. Sire of Chivalry ! 
 
 Ever by Minstrel watched, and Knight adored. 
 
 King of the haloed-brow, and diamond sword ! " 
 
 LIX. 
 
 Then, as from all the courts of all the earth. 
 
 The reverent pilgrims, countless, clustering came ; 
 
 They whom the seas of fabled Sirens girth, 
 Or Baltic freezing in the Boreal flame ; 
 
 Or they, who watch the Star of Bethlem quiver 
 
 By Carmel's Olive mount, and Judah's river. 
 
 * Richard Couur de Lion :— poetically speaking, the mythic Arthur was the Father o 
 the age of adventure and knighthood— and the legends respecting him reigned with full 
 influence, in tiie period which Richard Cocur de Lion, here (generally and without strict 
 ))rosaic regard to chronology) represents ; from the lay of the Troubadour and the song 
 vf the Saracen— to the final concentration of chivalric romance in the muse of Ariosto. 
 
 I 
 
(■■ 
 
 liM 
 
 216 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 {[book VII. 
 
 From violet Provence comes the Troubadour ; 
 
 Ferrara sends her clarion sounding son ; 
 Comes from Iberian halls the turbaned Moor 
 
 With cymbals chiming to the clarion ; 
 And, with large stride, amid the gaudier throng. 
 Stalks the vast Scald of Scandinavian song. 
 
 LXl. 
 
 Passed he who bore the lions and the cress, 
 And all that gorgeous pageant left the space 
 
 Void as a heart which mourns the golden loss 
 Of young illusions beautiful. A Race 
 
 Sedate, supplants upon the changeful stage, 
 
 Light's early sires, — the Song- World's hero-age. 
 
 LXII. 
 
 Slow come the Shapes from out the dim Obscure, 
 A noon like quiet circles swarming bays, 
 
 Seas gleam with sails, and wall-less towns secure 
 Rise from the donjon sites of antique days ; 
 
 Lo, the calm Sovereign of that sober reign, 
 
 Unarmed, — with burghers in his pompless train ; 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 And by the corpse of Arthur kneels that king. 
 And murmurs, " Father of the Tudor,* hail ! 
 
 To thee nor bays, nor myrtle wreath I bring ; 
 But in thy Son, the Dragon born prevail, 
 
 And in my rule Right first deposes Wrong ; 
 
 And first the weak undaunted face the strong." 
 
 * It is needless to say that in Henry VII. the direct line of the British kings, through 
 their most renowned heroes, is rostorod to the throne of England. It is here sjTTiboli- 
 cally intimated, that the date in which the Father-race of the Land thus regains the 
 
BOOK VII.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 217 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 He passed — Another, with a Nero's frown 
 Shading the quick light of impatient eyes, 
 
 Strides on — and casts his sceptre, clattering, down, 
 And from the sceptre rushingly arise 
 
 Fierce sparks ; along the heath they hissing run, 
 
 And the dull earth glows lurid as a sun. 
 
 LXV. 
 
 And there is heard afar the hollow crash 
 
 Of ruin ; — wind-borne, on the Hames are driven : 
 
 But where, round falling shrines, they coil and flash, 
 A seraph's hand extends a scroll from heaven, 
 
 And the rude shape cries loud, " Behold, ye blind, 
 
 I who have trampled Men, have freed the Mind ! " 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 So laughing grim, passed the Destroyer on ; 
 
 And, after two pale shadows, to the sound 
 Of lutes more musical than Helicon, 
 
 A manlike Woman marched : — The graves around 
 Yawned, and the ghosts of Knighthood, more serene 
 In death, — arose, and smiled upon the Queer 
 
 I 
 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 With her, at either hand, two starry iorms 
 Glide — than herself more royal — and the glow 
 
 Of their own lustre, each pale phantom warms 
 Into the lovely life the angels know, 
 
 And as they pass, each Fairy leaves its cell, 
 
 And Gloriana calls on Ariel. 
 
 Sovereign rights, is also (whatever the mere personal faults of the Tudor kings) the date 
 destined for the first recognition of rights more important ;— the dawn of a new era for 
 the liberties of men. 
 
'rf! 
 
 218 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book VII. 
 
 Lxvin. 
 
 Yet she, unconscious as the crescent qtieen 
 
 Of orbs whose brightness makes her image bright, 
 
 Haught and imperious, thro' the borrowed sheen, 
 Chaims to herself the sovereignty of light ; 
 
 And is herself so stately to survey. 
 
 That orbs which lend, but seem to f teal, the ray. 
 
 ill 
 
 1 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 Elf-iand divine, and Chivalry sublime, 
 
 Seem, there to hold their last high jubilee — 
 
 One glorious Sabbat of enchanted Time, 
 Ere the dull spell seals the sweet glamoury. 
 
 And all those wonder-shapes in subject ring 
 
 Kneel where tlie Bard still sits beside the King. 
 
 LXX. 
 
 Slow falls a mist, far booms a labouring wind. 
 As into nighi reluctant fades the Dream ; 
 
 A.nd lo, the smouldering embers left behind 
 From the old sceptre-flame, with blood-red beam. 
 
 Kindle afresh, and the thick smoke-reeks go 
 
 Heavily up from marcliing fires below. 
 
 : ^ 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 ' !l 
 
 1 
 
 ^1 
 
 Hark ! thro' sulphureous cloud the jarring bray 
 Of trumpet-clangours — the strong shock of steel ; 
 
 And fitful flashes light the fierce array 
 Of faces gloomy with the calm of zeal, 
 
 Or knightlier forms, on wheeling chargers borne ; 
 
 Gay in despair, and meeting zeal with scorn. 
 
 k 
 
nooK vji.] 
 
 KING ARTlWll 
 
 r\ I f\ 
 
 TiXXII. 
 
 Forth from the throng came a majestic Woo, 
 
 That wore the shape of man — " And I " — It sai<l, 
 
 •* I am thy Son ; and if the Fates hestow 
 Blood on my soul and ashes on my head ; 
 
 Time's is the guilt, tho' mine the misery — 
 
 This teach me, Father — to forgive and die ! " 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 But here stern voices drowned the mournful word, 
 Crying — " Men's freedom is the heritage 
 
 Left by the Hero of the Diamond Sword," 
 And others answered — " Nay, the knightly ago 
 
 Leaves, as its heirloom, knighthood, and that high 
 
 Life in sublimer life call'd loyalty."* 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 Then, thro' the hurtling clamour came a fair 
 Shape like a s worded seraph — sweet and grave ; 
 
 And when the war heaved distant down the air 
 And died, as dies a whirlwind on the wave. 
 
 By the two forms upon the starry hill. 
 
 Stood the Arch Beautiful, august and still. 
 
 " The Stuarts, like the Tudors, were descended from the Welch kings ; but the latent 
 meaning of the text is, that whatever most redeemed the faults on either side in tho 
 great Civil Wars, and animated, on the one, such souls as Derby ar.d Falkland, on the 
 other, such as Hampden and Vane, may be traced to those ennoblin,.' sentiments which 
 are engendered by the early romance and i>oetry of a nation. It is only from the tradi- 
 tions of a Hero-age that true heroism enters into the struggles for even practical ends, 
 and gives the sentiment of grandeur whether to freedom or loyalty. The hardest man 
 who n-jver read a i»oem, nor listened to a legend, cannot say what he would have been if 
 the poet had never coloured, and the legend never exalted, the Prose of Life to which 
 hisscoj)e is confined. Tills is designed to be conveyed in words ascribed below to Milton, 
 who himself united all the romance of tho Cavalier with all the zeal of tho Republican. 
 
i; > 
 
 f I 
 
 !■ ^ 
 
 i 
 i 
 
 '■I 
 
 i 
 
 220 
 
 KINO ARTHUR 
 
 [book VII. 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 And thus It spoke — " I too will hail thee, ' Sire,' 
 Typo of the Hero-age ! — thy sons are not 
 
 On the earth's thrones. They who, with stately lyre. 
 Make kingly thoughts immortal, and the lot 
 
 Of the hard life divine with visitings 
 
 Of the far angels — are thy race of Kings. 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 •* All that ennobles strife in either cause, 
 And, rendering service stately, freedom wise. 
 
 Knits to the throne of God our human laws — 
 Doth heir earth's humblest son with royalties 
 
 Born from the Hero of the Diamond Sword, 
 
 Watched by the Bard, and by the Brave adored." 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 Then the Bard, seated by the haloed dead, 
 
 Lifts his sad eyes — and murmurs, " Sing of Him ! " 
 
 Doubtful the stranger bows his lofty head, 
 When down descend his kindred Seraphim ; 
 
 Borne on their wings he soars from human sight, 
 
 And Heaven regains the Habitant of Light. 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 Again, and once again — from many a pale 
 And swift succeeding, dim-distinguished, crowd, 
 
 Swells slow the pausing pageant. Mount and vale 
 Mingle in gentle daylight, with one cloud 
 
 On the far welkin, which the iris hues 
 
 Steal from its gloom by rays that interfuse. 
 
BOOK VII.] 
 
 KIN ARTHUR. 
 
 221 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 Mild, like all strength, sits Crowned Liberty, 
 Wearing the aspect of a youthful Queen : 
 
 And far outstretched along the unmeasured sea 
 Rests the vast shadow of her throne ; serene 
 
 From the dumb icebergs to the fiery zone, 
 
 Rests the vast shadow of that guardian throne. 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 And round her group the Cymrian's changeless race 
 Blent with the Saxon, brother like ; and both 
 
 Saxon and Cymrian from that sovereign trace 
 Their hero line ; — sweet flower of age-long growth ; 
 
 The single blossom on the twofold stem ; — 
 
 Arthur's white plume crests Cerdic's diadem. 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 Yet the same harp that Taliessin strung 
 
 Delights the sons whose sires the chords delighted ; 
 Still the Old music of the mountain tongue 
 
 Tells of a race not conquered but united ; 
 That, losing nought, wins all the Saxon won, 
 And shares the realm where never sets the sun. 
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 Afar is heard the fall of headlong thrones, 
 But from that throne as calm the shadow falls ; 
 
 And where Oppression threats and Sorrow groans, 
 Justice sits listening in her gateless halls. 
 
 And ev'n, if powerless, still intent, to cure, 
 
 Whispers to Truth, "Truths conquer that endure." 
 
222 
 
 KING ARTHUll 
 
 [book VII. 
 
 LXXXIIL 
 
 Yet still on that horizon hangs the cloud, 
 
 And the clcu .1 chains the Cymrian's anxious eye ; 
 
 " Alas," he murmured, " that one mist should shroud, 
 Perchance from sorrow, that benignant sky !" 
 
 But while he sigh'd the Vision vanished, 
 
 And left once more the lone Bard by the dead. 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 " Behold the close of thirteen hundred years ; 
 
 Lo ! Cyrari's Daughter on the Saxon's throne ! 
 Free as their air thy Gymrian mountaineers. 
 
 And in the heavens one rainbow cloud alone 
 Which shall not pass, until, tha cycle o'er. 
 The soul of Arthur comes to earth once more ; 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 * ' Dost thou choose Death % " the giant Dreamer said. 
 
 " Ay, for in death I seize the life of fame. 
 And link the eternal millions with the dead," 
 
 Replied the King — and to the sword he came 
 Large-striding ; — grasped the hilt ; — the charmed brand 
 Clove to the rock, and stirred not to his hand. 
 
 LXXXVI. 
 
 The Dreaming Ge^iius hath his throne resumed ; 
 
 Sit tlie Great Three, with Silence for their reign. 
 Awful as earliest Theban kings entombed, 
 
 Or idols granite-hewn in Indian fane ; 
 When lo, the dove flew forth, and circling round, 
 Dropped on the thorn-wreath which tiie Statue crowned. 
 
BOOK VII.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 223 
 
 LXXXVII. 
 
 Then rose the Vulture with its carnage-shriek. 
 Up coiled the darting Asps ; the bird above ; 
 
 Below the reptiles ; — poison fang and beak, 
 Nearer and nearer gathered round the dove ; 
 
 When with strange life the marble Image stirred, 
 
 And sudden pause the asps — and rests the bird. 
 
 LXXXVIII. 
 
 " Mortal," the Image murmured, " I am He, 
 Whose voice alone the enchanted sword unsheathes. 
 
 Mightier than yonder Shapes — eternally- 
 Throned upon light, tho' crown'd with thorny wreaths \ 
 
 Changeless amid the Halls of Time ; — my name 
 
 In heaven is Youth, and on the earth is Fame. 
 
 LXXXIX. 
 
 " All altars need their sacrifice ; and mine 
 Asks every bjoom in which thy heart delighted, 
 
 Tliorns are my garlands — wouldst thou serve the shrine. 
 Drear is the faith to which thy vows are plighted. 
 
 The asp shall twine, — the vulture watch the prey, 
 
 And horror rend thee, let but hope give way. 
 
 xc. 
 
 " Wilt thou the falchion with the thorns it brings ?" 
 "Yea — ^iov the thorn-wreath hath not dimmed thy smile." 
 
 " Lo, thy first offering to the v^ulture's wings, 
 And the asp's fangs ! " — the cold lips answered, while 
 
 Nearer, and nearer tlie devourcrs came, 
 
 Where the dove restiniir hid the thorns of Fame. 
 
224 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book VII. 
 
 XCI. 
 
 And all the memories of that faichful guide, 
 The sweet companion of unfriended ways, 
 
 When danger threatened, ever at his side. 
 And ever, in the grief of later days, : ® 
 
 Soothing his heart with its mysterious love. 
 
 Till -^gl6*s soul seemed hovering in the dove, — 
 
 XCII. 
 
 All cried aloud in Arthur, and he sprang 
 
 And sudden from the slaughter snatcht th3 prey ; 
 
 " What !" said the Image, " can a moment's pang 
 To the poor worthless favourite of a day 
 
 Appal the soul that yearns for ends sublime, 
 
 And sighs for empire o'er the worlds of Time ? 
 
 XCIIl. 
 
 " Wilt thou resign the guerdon of the sword 1 
 Wilt thou forego the freedom of thy land 1 
 
 Not one slight offering will thy heart accord 1 
 The hero's prize is for the martyr's hand." 
 
 Safe on his breast the King replaced the guide, 
 
 Raised his .najestic front, and thus replied : 
 
 xciv. 
 
 " For Fame and Cymri, what is mine I give, 
 
 Life ; — and prefer brave death to ease and power ; 
 
 But not for Fame or Cymri would I live 
 
 Soiled by the stain of one dishonour 3d hour ; 
 
 And man's great cause was ne'er triumphant made 
 
 By man's worst meanness — Trust, for gain, betrayed. 
 
BOOK VII.] 
 
 KINO ARTHUR. 
 
 225 
 
 xcv. 
 
 " Let then the rock the sword for ever sheathe, 
 All blades are charmed in the Patriot's grasp !" 
 
 He spoke, and lo ! the Statue's thorny wreath 
 Bloomed into roses — and each baffled asp 
 
 Fell down and died of its own poison sting ; 
 
 Back to the crag dull-sailed the death-bird's wing. 
 
 xcvi. 
 
 And from the Statue's smile, as when the morn 
 Unlocks the Eastern gates of Paradise, 
 
 Ineffable joy, in light and beauty borne. 
 Flowed ; and the azure of the distant skies 
 
 Stole thro' the crimson hues the ruby gave. 
 
 And slept, like Happiness on Glory's wave. 
 
 XCVII. 
 
 " Go," said the Image, " thou hast won the Sword ; 
 
 He who thus values Honour more than Fame 
 Makes Fame itself his servant, not his lord ; 
 
 And the man's heart achieves the hero's claim. 
 But by Ambition is Ambition tried. 
 None gain the guerdon who betray the guide !" 
 
 XCVIII. 
 
 Wondering the Monarch heard, and hearing, laid 
 On the bright hilt-gem, the obedient hand ; 
 
 Swift at the touch, leapt forth the diamond blade. 
 And each long vista lightened with the brand ; 
 
 The speaking marble bowed its reverent head, 
 
 Rose the three Kings — the Dreamer and the Dead ; 
 
 :# 
 
22G 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book VII. 
 
 XCIX. 
 
 Voices far off, as in the heart of heaven, 
 
 Hyinn'd "Hail, Fame-Conqueror in the Halls of Time ;" 
 Deep as to hell the flaming vaults were riven ; 
 
 High as to angels, space on space sublime 
 Opened, and flash'd upon the mortal's eye 
 The Morning Land of Immortality. 
 
 c. 
 
 Bowed down before the intolerable light. 
 
 Sank on his knees the King ; and humbly veiled 
 . The Home of Seraphs from the human sight ; 
 Then the freed Soul forsook him, as it hailed 
 
 Thro' Flesh, its prison-house, the spirit choir \ 
 
 And fled as flies the music from the lyre. 
 
 CI. 
 
 And all was blank, and meaningless, and void 
 For the dull form, abandoned thus below ; 
 
 Scarcely it felt the closing waves that buoyed 
 Its limbs, light-drifting do^vn the gentle flow— 
 
 And when the conscious life returned again, 
 
 Lo, noon lay tranquil on the ocean main. 
 
 CII. 
 
 As from a dream he woke, and looked around, 
 For the lost Lake and uEgl^'s distant grave ; 
 
 But dark, behind, the silent headlands frowned j 
 And bright, before him, smiled the murmuring wave ; 
 
 His right hand rested on the falchion won ; 
 
 And the dove poised her pinions in the sun. 
 
[book VII. 
 
 Halls of Time ;" 
 
 ren-f 
 
 le 
 
 V. 
 
 )ly veiled 
 jht; 
 lailed 
 oir; 
 
 iroid 
 
 jred 
 
 3 flow— 
 
 n, 
 
 Book the Eighth. 
 
 und, 
 'ave; 
 wned j 
 •muring wave ; 
 
 m. 
 
 f 
 
ARGUMENT. 
 
 Lancelot continues to watch for Arthur till the eve of tlio following day, when a 
 Damsel approaches the Lake — Lancelot's discreet behaviour thereon, and how the Knight 
 and the Damsel converse — The Damsel tells her tale— Upon her leaving Lancelot, the 
 fairy ring commands he Knight to desert his watch, and follow the Maiden — The story 
 returns to Arthur, who, wandering by the sea-shore, perceives a Bark with the Raveu 
 flag of the sea-kings — The Dove enjoins him to enter it— The Ship is deserted, and ho 
 waits the return of the Crew— Sleep falls upon him— The consoling Vision of iEglii— 
 What befalls Arthur on waking— Meanwhile Sir Qawaine pursues his voyage to the 
 Shrine of Freya, at which he is to be sacrificed— How the Hound came to bear him com> 
 pany— Sir Gawame argues with the Viking on the inutility of roasting him— The Viking 
 defends that measure upon philosophical and liberal principles, and silences Gawaine— 
 The Ship arrives at its destination — Gawaine is conducted to the Shrine of Freya — The 
 Statue of the Goddess described— Gawalne's remarks thereon, and how he is refuted and 
 enlightened by the Chief Priest— Sir Gawaine is bound, and in reply to his natural 
 curiosity, the Priest explains how he and the Dog are to be roasted and devoured— The 
 sagacious proceedings of the Dog— Sir Gawaine fails in teaching the Dog the duty of 
 Fraternization— The Priest re-enters, and Sir Gawaine, with much satisfaction, gets tlie 
 best of the Argument— Concluding Stanzas to Nature. 
 
Booh Eight. 
 
 I. 
 
 ONE by the lake reclined young Lancelot — [plain ; 
 
 Night passed, the noonday slept on wave and 
 Lone by the lake watched patient Lancelot; 
 
 Like Faith assured that Love returns again. 
 Noon glided on to eve ; when from the brake 
 Brushed a light step, and paused beside the lake. 
 
 11. 
 
 How lovely to the margin of the wave 
 The shy-eyed Virgin came ! and, all unwitting 
 
 The unseen Knight, to the frank sunbeam gave 
 Her sunny hair — its snooded braids unknitting ; 
 
 And, fearless, as by her own well the nymph. 
 
 Sleeked the loose tresses, mirrored in the lymph. 
 
 III. 
 
 And, playful now. the sandal silks unbound. 
 Oft from the cool fresh wave with coy retreat 
 
 Shrinking, — and glancing with arch looks around, 
 The crystal gleameth with her ivory feet. 
 
 Like floating swan-plumes^ or the leaves that quiver 
 
 From water-lilies, under Himera's river. 
 
230 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book VIII. 
 
 t 
 
 , i 
 
 IV. 
 
 Ah happy Knight, unscathed, such charms espying, 
 As brought but death to the profane of yore, 
 
 When Dian's maids to angry quivers flying 
 Pierced the bold heart presuming to adore ! 
 
 Ah happy Knight, unguest in thy retreat, 
 
 Envyinf^ th.e waves that kiss those starry feet ! 
 
 V. 
 
 But worthy of his bliss, the loyal Knight 
 
 Pure from all felon thoughts as Knights "hould be. 
 
 Revering, angered at his own delight. 
 
 The lone, unconscious, guardless modesty. 
 
 Rose, yet unseen, and to the copse hard by 
 
 Stole with quick footstep, and averted eye. 
 
 VI. 
 
 But as one tremour of the summer boughs 
 
 Scares the shj'' fawn, so with i-hat faintest sound 
 
 The Virgin starts, and back from rosy brows 
 Flings wide the showering gold ; and all around 
 
 Casts the swift trouble of her looks, to see 
 
 The white plume glisten through the rustling tree. 
 
 vir. 
 
 As by some conscious instinct of the fear 
 
 He caused, the Knight turns back his reverent gaze ; 
 And in soft accents, tuned to Lady's ear 
 
 In gentle courts, her purposed flight delays ; 
 So nobly timid in his look and tone 
 As if the power to harm were all her own. 
 
 
BOOK VIII,] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 231 
 
 VIII. 
 
 " Lady, and liego, fly not thus thy slave ; 
 
 If he offend, unwitting the offence, 
 For safer not upon the unsullying wave 
 
 Doth thy pure image rest, than Innocence 
 On the clear thoughts of noble men ! " He said ; 
 And low with downcast lids, replied the maid. 
 
 IX. 
 
 [0, from those lips how strangely musical 
 
 Sounds the loathed language of the Saxon foe !] 
 
 " Tho' on mine ear the Cymrian accents fall, 
 And in my speech, Cymrian, thou wilt know 
 
 Tlie daughter of the Saxon ; marvel not, 
 
 That less I fear thee in this lonely spot. 
 
 «!| 
 
 X. 
 
 " Than hadst thou spoken in my mother-tongue. 
 Or worn the aspect of my father-race." 
 
 Here to her eyes some tearful memory sprung. 
 
 And youth's glad sunshine vanished from her face ; 
 
 Like the changed sky the gleams of April leave, 
 
 Or the quick coming of an Indian eve. 
 
 Sn 
 
 XI. 
 
 Moved yet emboldened by that mild distress, 
 Near the fair shape the gentle Cymrian drew. 
 
 Bent o'er the hand his pity dared to press, 
 
 And soothed the sorrow ere the cause he knew ; 
 
 Frank were those times of trustful Chevisaunce. 
 
 And Hearts when guileless open to a glance. 
 
ii' 
 
 ;ir 
 
 I I 
 
 i. 
 
 II 
 
 I 
 
 232 
 
 KIJSG AliTIIUR. 
 
 [book viit. 
 
 XII. 
 
 So see them seated by the haunted lake, 
 She on the grassy bank, her sylvan throne, 
 
 He at her feet — and out from every brake 
 The Forest- Angels singing : — all alone 
 
 With Nature and the Beautiful — and Youth 
 
 Pure in each soul as, in her fountain, Truth ! 
 
 XIII. 
 
 And thus her tale the Teuton maid began : 
 " Daughter of Harold, Mercia's Earl, am I. 
 
 Small need to tell to Knighthood's Christian son 
 What creed of wrath the Saxons sanctify. 
 
 With songs first chaunted in some thunder-field, 
 
 Stern nurses rocked me in my father's shield. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 " Motherless both, — my playmate sole and sweet. 
 Years — sex, the same, was Crida's youngest chiM, — 
 
 Crida, the Mercian Ealder-King — our feet 
 Roved the same pastures when the Mead-month* smiled ; 
 
 By the same hearth we paled to Saga runes. 
 
 When wolves descending howled to icy moons. 
 
 XV. 
 
 " As side by side, two osiers o'er a stream. 
 When air is still, with separate foliage bend, 
 
 But let a breezelet blow, and straight they seem 
 AVith trembling branches into one to blend, 
 
 So grew our natures, — when in calm, apart. 
 
 But, in each care, commingling, heart to heart. 
 
 '^ The Mead-Montii, June. 
 
BOOK vni.] 
 
 KING ARTIIUli. 
 
 233 
 
 •month* smiled j 
 
 XVI. 
 
 " Her soul was bright and tranquil as a bird 
 That hangs in golden noon with silent wing, 
 
 And mine, more earthly, gay, and quickly stirred 
 Did, like the gossamer, float light, to cling 
 
 To each frail blossom, — weaving idle dreams 
 
 Where'er on dew-drops play'd the morning beams. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 "Thus into youth we grew, when Crida bore 
 Homo from fierce wars a British Woman-slave, 
 
 A lofty captive, who her sorrow wore 
 As Queens a mantle ; yet not proud, tho* grave, 
 
 And grave as if with pity for the foe. 
 
 Too higli for anger, too resigned for woe. 
 
 xvni 
 
 " Much moved our young hearts that majestic face, 
 And much v/e schemed to soothe the sense of thrall. 
 
 She learned to love us, — let our love replace 
 That she had lost, — and thanked her God for all. 
 
 Even for chains and bondage : — awed we heard, 
 
 And found the secret in the Gospel Word. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 " Thus, Cymrian, we were Christians. First, the slave 
 Taught that bright soul whose shadow fell on mine ; 
 
 Thus we were Christians ; — but, as thro' the cave 
 Flow hidden river springs, the Faith Divine 
 
 We dared not give to day — in stealth we sung 
 
 Hymns to the Cymrian's God, in Cymri's tongue. 
 

 m ■ 
 
 '[ 
 
 if 
 
 r > 
 
 ; i 
 
 1 ■ 
 
 j 
 
 i. * 
 
 -^«. 
 
 234 
 
 KINO Aimiuit. 
 
 [nooK viii. 
 
 XX. 
 
 (( 
 
 And for our earlier names of heathen sound, 
 We did such namon as saints have borne, receive ; 
 One name in trutli, tho' with a varying sound ; 
 
 Gcnovra I — and she sweet Genevieve, — 
 "Words that escaped from other ears, unknown, 
 But spoke as if lieaven-whispered to our own. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 " Soon with thy creed wo learned thy race to love, 
 Listening high tales of Arthur's peerless fame. 
 
 But most such themes did my sweet playmate move ; 
 To her tho creed endeared the champion's name. 
 
 With angel thoughts surrounded Clirist's young chief, 
 
 And gave to glory haloes from Belief. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 "Not long our teacher did survive, to guide 
 Our feet, delighted in the new-found ways ; 
 
 Smiling on us — and on the cross — she died. 
 And vanished in her grave our infant days ; 
 
 We grew to women when we learned to grieve, 
 
 And Childhood left the eyes of Genevieve. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 " Oft, ev'n from me, musing she stole av/ay. 
 Where thick the woodland girt the ruined hall 
 
 Of Cymrian kings, forgotten ; — thro' the day 
 Still as the lonely nightingale midst all 
 
 The joyous choir that drown her murmur : — So 
 
 Mused Crida's daughter on the Saxon's foe. 
 
BOOK VIII.] 
 
 KING ARTIIUn. 
 
 235 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 " Alas ! alas ! — sad moons have waned since then ! — 
 One fatal morn her forest haunt she sought 
 
 Nor thence returned ; whether by lawless men 
 Captured, or flying, of her own free thought, 
 
 From heathen shrines abhorretl ; — all search was vain, 
 
 Ne'er to our eyes that smile brought light again." 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Here paused the maid, and tears gushed forth anew, 
 Ere faltering words rewove the tale one i more ; 
 
 " Roused from his woe, the wrathful Crida flew 
 To Thor's dark priests, and Woden's wizanl lore. 
 
 Tasked was each rune that sways the demon hosts. 
 
 And the strong seid* compelled revealing ghosts. 
 
 XXTI. 
 
 " And answered priest and rune, and the pale Dead, 
 * That in the fate of her, the Thor-descended, 
 
 The Gods of Cymri wove a mystic thread, 
 With Arthur's life and Cymri's glory blended. 
 
 And Dragon-Kings, ordained in future years. 
 
 To seize the birthright of the Saxon spears. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 " ' By Arthur's death, and Carduel's towers o'erthrown, 
 Could Thor and Crida yet the web unweave, 
 
 Protect the Saxon's threatened gods ; — alone 
 Regain the lost one, and exulting leave 
 
 To Hengist's race the ocean-girt abodes, 
 
 Till the Last Twilight darken round the Gods.* 
 
 i 
 
 i'u 
 
23G 
 
 ! 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book VIII. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 " Thin hoard and this believed, the direful King 
 Convenes his Eorl-born and prepares his powers, 
 
 Uhfolds the omens, and the tasks they bring, 
 And guides the Valkyrs to the Cymrian towers. 
 
 Dreadest in war — and wisest in the hall, 
 
 Stands my great Sire — the Saxon's Herman Saul.* 
 
 XXJX. 
 
 " He, to secure allies beyond the sea. 
 
 Departs — but first, — for well he loved his child, — 
 He drew me to his breast, and tenderly 
 
 Chiding my tears, he spoke, and speaking smiled, 
 * Whate'er betides thy father or thy land, 
 Far from our dangers Astrildt woos thy hand. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 " * Beorn, the bold son ot Sweyn, the Gothland king, 
 Whose ocean war-steeds on the Baltic % deeps 
 
 Range their blue pasture — for thy love shall bring 
 As marriage-gifts, to Cymri's mountain-keeps 
 
 Arm'd men and thunder. Happy is the maid, 
 
 Whose rharms lure armies to her Country's aid.' 
 
 * Herman-Saul (or Saule) often corruptly written Irminsula, Armensula, &c., the 
 name of the celebrated Teuton Idol representing an armed warrior on a column, 
 destroyed by Charlemagne a.d. 772, According to some it means literally the column 
 of Herman, i.e., the leader — the War-Ood. Others, however, have supposed the name 
 to be rather JOrmun Saul, the great or Universal Column, and so the name is rendered 
 in the Latin translation, "Universalis Columna." 
 
 t Astrild, the Cupid of the Northern Mythology. 
 
 X The more proper word for the Baltic, viz., the Eastern Sea, would probably convey 
 to the English ear, a notion contrary to that which is intended, and therefore the 
 familiar word in the text is selected, though strictly speaking, the name of the Baltic 
 does not apjiear to have been given to that Ocean before the twelfth century. 
 
BOOK VIII.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 237 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 " What, while I heard, my terror and my woe I 
 Was I, the votary of the Christian God, 
 
 Doomed to become the helpmate of His foe ! 
 For ne er o'er blazing altars Slaughter trod, 
 
 Redder with blood of saints remorseless slain. 
 
 Than Beorn, the Incarnate Fenris* of the main. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 " Yet than such nuptials more I feared the frown 
 Of my dread father ; — motionless I stood, 
 
 Rigid in horror, mutely bending down 
 The eyes that dared not weep. — So Solitude 
 
 Found me, a thing made soulless by despair. 
 
 Till tears gave way, and with the tears flowed prayer." 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 Again Genevra paused : and beautiful. 
 As Art hath imaged Faith — looked up to heaven, 
 
 With eyes that glistening smiled. Along the lull 
 Of air, waves sighed — the winds of stealing Even 
 
 Murmured, birds sung, the leaflet mstling stirred ; 
 
 The voice just hushed was all the listener heard. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 The maid resumed—" Scarce did my Sire return, 
 To loose the War-fiends on the Cymrian foe, 
 
 Than came the raven galley sent by Beorn, 
 For the pale partner of his realms of snow ; 
 
 Shuddering, recoiling, forth I stole at night, 
 
 To the wide forest with wild thoughts of flight. 
 Fenris, the Demon Wolf, Son of Aca-Lok. 
 
 
238 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book VI it. 
 
 \ ' 
 
 I i 
 
 l«f\ 
 
 i; M 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 "I reached the ruined halls wherein so oft 
 Lost Genevieve had mused lone hours away, 
 
 When halting wistful there, a strange and soft 
 Slumber fell o'er me, or, more sooth to say, 
 
 A slumber not, but rather on my soul 
 
 A life-dream, clear as hermit-visions, stole. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 *' I saw an aged and majestic form. 
 
 Robed in the spotless weeds thy Druids wear, 
 I heard a voice deep as when coming storm 
 
 Sends its first murmur through the heaving air ; 
 * Return,' — it said — * return, and dare the sea, 
 The eye that sleeps not looks from heaven on thee.' 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 " The form was gone, the voice was hushed, and grief 
 Fled from my heart ; I trusted and obeyed ; 
 
 Weak still, my weakness leant on my belief; 
 I saw the sails unfurl, the headlands fade \ 
 
 I saw my father, last upon the strand. 
 
 Veiling proud sorrow with his iron hand. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 " Swift through the ocean clove the flashing prows, 
 And half the dreaded course was glided o'er. 
 
 When, as the wolves, which night and winter rouse 
 In cavernous lairs, from seas without a shore 
 
 Clouds swept the skies ; and the swift hurricane 
 
 Rushed from the North along the maddening main, 
 
 111 ' 
 
BOOK VIII.] 
 
 KING AETimn. 
 
 239 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 " Startled from sleep upon the rerge of doom, 
 AVith wild cry, shrilling thro* the wilder blast, 
 
 Uprose the seamen, ghostlike thro' the gloom, 
 Hurrying and helpless ; while the sail-less mast 
 
 Now lightning-wreathed, now indistinct and pale, 
 
 Bowed, or, rebounding, groaned against the gale, 
 
 XL. 
 
 " And crashed at last ; — its sullen thunder drowned 
 In the great storm that snapt it. Over all 
 
 Swept the long surges, and a gurgling sound 
 Told where some wretch, that strove in vain to call 
 
 For aid, where all were aidless, thro' the spray 
 
 Emerging, gasped, and then was whirled away. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 "But I, who ever wore upon my heart 
 
 The symbol cross of Him who had walked the seas, 
 Bowed o'er that sign my head ; and prayed apart : 
 
 When through the darkness, on his crawling knees. 
 Crept to my side the chief, and crouched him there, 
 Mild as an infant, listening to my prayer, 
 
 XLII. 
 
 " And clinging to my robes ; * Thee have I seen,' 
 Faltering he said, 'when round thee coiled the blue 
 
 Lightning, and rushed the billoW'Swoop, serene 
 And scatheless smiling ; surely then I knew 
 
 That, strong in charms or runes that guard and save. 
 
 Thou mock'st the whirlwind and the roaring grave : 
 
 m 
 
2-^0 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book vih. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 " * Shield us, young Vala, from the wrath of Ean, 
 And calm the raging Helheim of the deep.* 
 
 As from a voice within, I answered, * Man, 
 Nor rune nor charm locks into mortal sleep 
 
 The present God ; by Faith all ills are braved ; 
 
 Trust in that God ; adore Him, and be saved.' 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 ^1 
 
 "Then pliant to my will, the ghastly crew 
 
 Crept round the cross, amid the howling dark — 
 
 Dark, save when swift and sharp, and griding thro' 
 The cloud-mass, clove the lightning, and the bark 
 
 Flashed like a floating hell ; Low by that sign 
 
 All knelt, and voices hollow-chimed to mine. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 (C 
 
 Thus as we prayed, lo, opened all the Heaven, 
 With one long steadfast splendour — calmly o'er 
 
 The God-Cross resting : then the clouds were riven 
 And the rains fell ; the whirlwind hushed its roai. 
 
 And the smoothed billows on the ocean's breast. 
 
 As on a mother's, sighing, sunk to rest. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 " So came the dawn : o er the new Christian fold. 
 Glad as the Heavenly Shepherd, smiled the sun ; 
 
 Then to those grateful hearts my tale I told, 
 
 The heathen bonds the Christian maid should shun. 
 
 And prayed in turn their aid my soul to save 
 
 From doom more dismal than a sinless grave. 
 
 %\^l: 
 
 ,; ■ 
 
[book VJII. 
 
 BOOK VIII.] 
 
 KING AETnUR. 
 
 241 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 of Ran, 
 eep.' 
 
 leep 
 
 aved; 
 
 ved.' 
 
 " They, with one shout, proclaim their law my will, 
 And veer the prow from northern snows afar, 
 
 Soon gentler winds the murmuring canvas fill. 
 
 Fair floats the bark where guides the western star, 
 
 From coast to coast we passed, and peaceful sailed 
 
 Into lone creeks, by yon blue mountains veiled. 
 
 V 
 
 ig dark — 
 iding thro' 
 ad the bark 
 t sign 
 line. 
 
 .eaven, 
 ilmly o'er 
 were riven 
 lied its roai, 
 breast, 
 
 tian fold, 
 d the sun ; 
 ;old, 
 should shun, 
 
 save 
 rave. 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 " Here all wide scattered up the inward land 
 
 For stores and water, range the blithesome crew ; 
 
 Lured by the smiling shores, one gentler band 
 I joined awhile, then left them, to pursue 
 
 Mine own glad fancies, where the brooklet clear 
 
 Shot itinging onwards to the sunlit mere. 
 
 XI.IX. 
 
 " And so we chanced to meet !" She ceased, and bent 
 Down the fresh rose-hues of her eloquent cheek ; 
 
 Ere Lancelot spoke, the startled echo sent 
 
 Loud shouts reverberate, lengthening, plain to peak ; 
 
 The sounds proclaim the savage followers near. 
 
 And straight the rose-hues pale, — but not from fear. 
 
 L. 
 
 Slowly Genevra rose, and her sweet eyes 
 
 Raised to the Knight's, frankly and mournfully ; 
 
 "Farewell," she said, "the winged moment flies 
 Who shall say whither ? — if this meeting be 
 
 Our last as first, Christian warrior, take 
 
 The Saxon's greeting for the Christian's sake. 
 
 
KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book viii. 
 
 LI. 
 
 " And if, returning to thy perilled land, 
 In the hot fray thy sword confront my Sire, 
 
 Strike not ; — rei lembcr me ! " On her fair hand 
 The Cymrian seals his lips ; wild thoughts inspire 
 
 Words /.'hich the lips may speak not : — but wiiat truth 
 
 Lies hid when youth reflects its soul on youth 1 
 
 LII. 
 
 Reluctant turns Genevra, lingering turns, 
 And up the hill, oft pausing, languid wends. 
 
 As infant flame thro' humid fuel burns. 
 
 In Lancelot's heart with honour, love contends ; 
 
 Longs to pursue, regain, and cry, "Where'er 
 
 Thou wanderest, lead me ; Paradise is there !" 
 
 LIII. 
 
 But the lost Arthur ! — at that thought, the strength 
 
 Of duty nerved the loyal sentinel : 
 So by the lake watched Lancelot ; — at length 
 
 Upon the ring his looks, in drooping, fell, 
 And see, the hand, no more in dull repose. 
 Points to the path in which Genevra goes ! 
 
 LIV. 
 
 Amazed, and wrathful at his own delight. 
 
 He doubts, he hopes, he moves, and still the ring 
 
 Repeats the sweet command, and bids the Knight 
 Pursue the Maid as if to find the King. 
 
 Yielding) at last, though half remorseful still, 
 
 The Cymrian follows up the twilight hill. 
 
1 
 
 [book viij. 
 
 BOOK VIII.] 
 
 KING ARTHUIL 
 
 243 
 
 LV. 
 
 I 
 
 Sire, 
 ir hand 
 ghip inspire 
 )ut wiiat truth 
 puth % 
 
 wends. 
 
 contends j 
 ere'er 
 there 1" 
 
 the strength 
 
 ength 
 I, fell, 
 lose, 
 )es! 
 
 Istill the ring 
 the Knight 
 
 ing. 
 
 ful still) 
 ill. 
 
 Meanwhile along the beach of the wide sea, 
 Wandered the dove-led Arthur, — needful food, 
 
 The Maenad's fruits from many a purple tree 
 
 Flushed for the vintage, gave ; with musing mood. 
 
 Lonely lie strays till ^thra sees again 
 
 Her starry children smiling on the main. 
 
 LVI. 
 
 Around him then, curved grey the hollow creek ; 
 
 Before, a ship lay still with furled sail ; 
 A gilded serpent glittered from the beak. 
 
 Along the keel encoiled with lengthening trail ; 
 Black from the flag-mast, with impatient win^js 
 Soared the dread Raven of the Runic kings. 
 
 LVII. 
 
 Here paused the Wanderer, for here flew the dove ; 
 
 Circling round the ship, then hovering o'er ; 
 But on the deck, no watch, no pilot move. 
 
 Life-void the vessel as the lonely shore. 
 Far on the sand-beach drawn, a boat he spied. 
 And tvith strong hand he launched it on the tide. 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 Gaining the bark, still not a human eye 
 Peers through the noiseless soHtary shrouds ; 
 
 So, for the crew's return, all patiently 
 
 He sate him down, and watched the phantom clouds 
 
 Flit to and fro, where, o'er the slopes afar 
 
 Reign storm-girt Areas, and the Mother Star. 
 
 m 
 
 
2U 
 
 KING AliTIimi 
 
 [book viu. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 Tlius sleep stole o'er him, mercy-hallowed sleep, 
 His own loved ^gle, lovelier than of old, 
 
 O lovelier far — shone from the azure deep — 
 i*nd, like the angel d "ng S".- ts behold, 
 
 Beni o'er his broA., and ,vi:h .uauio^iial kiss 
 
 Breathed on his sonl hrr o.f:! { .; .^ spirit-bliss. 
 
 LX. 
 
 "Never more grieve for me," the Vision said, 
 " Behold hoAV beautiful thy bride is now ! 
 
 Who to yon Heaven from heathen Hades led 
 Me, thine Immortal 1 Mourner, it was thou ! 
 
 Why shouldst chou mourn 1 In the empyreal clime 
 
 We know no severance, for we own no time. 
 
 LXI. 
 
 " Our present clasps each moment of the past 
 
 That had a joy akin to joys in heaven, 
 The only memories here that caunot last 
 
 Are those of sorrows dead and sins forgiven. 
 With me not yet — I ever am with thee, 
 Thy presence flows through my eternity. 
 
 LXTI. 
 
 " Think but of me as one re-born in heaven 
 And watching o'er thee with a spirit's love, — 
 
 Seeking to breathe into each bloom yet given 
 Unto thine eye, sweets from the bowers above ; 
 
 Think that each ray which makes thy world more bright 
 
 Comes as a message from my halls of light ; 
 
 ^ f„ 
 
[book VIII. 
 
 BOOK VIII.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 245 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 I sleep, 
 
 old, 
 
 p— 
 
 iss 
 -bliss. 
 
 " T' at in each blessing, we, pure 'puits, bind 
 1 hose > 'ho survive us in a cL"»ser chain ; 
 
 Ir all that glads wo feel ourselves enshrined ; 
 In all ihat loves, our love but lives again." 
 
 Anew she kisi his brow, and at her smile 
 
 Night and Creation brightened ! He, the while, 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 said, 
 
 9W ! 
 
 !S led 
 IS thou ! 
 pyreal clime 
 time. 
 
 Stretched his vain arms, and clasped the mocking air, 
 And from the rapture woke I — All fiercely round 
 
 Groupe savage forms, amidst the lurid glare 
 Of lifted torches, red ; fierce tongues resound, 
 
 lascordan^ clamouring hoarse — as birds of prey 
 
 Scared by man's footstep in some desolate bay. 
 
 
 e past 
 
 )rgiven. 
 
 aven 
 
 love, — 
 given 
 ers above ; 
 
 orld more bright 
 
 gilt J 
 
 LXV. 
 
 Mild thro' the throng a bright-haired Virgin came. 
 And the roar hushed ; — while to the Virgin's breast 
 
 Soft-cooing fled the Dove. His own great name 
 Eang thro' the ranks behind ; quick footsteps prest- 
 
 As thro' arm'd lines a warrior — to the spot. 
 
 And to the King knelt radiant Lancelot. 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 Here for a while the wild and fickle song 
 
 Leaves the crowned Seeker of the Silver Shield ; 
 
 Tliy fates, Gawaine, done to grievous wrong 
 By the black guide perfidious, be revealed, 
 
 Nearing, poor Knight, the Cannibalian shrine, 
 
 Where Freya scents thee, and prepares to dine. 
 
 11 
 
 I 
 t 
 
 li 
 
246 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book VIII. 
 
 f 1 
 
 m . 
 
 ul ' 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 Left by a bride, and outraged by a raven, 
 
 One friend still shared the injured captive's lot \ 
 
 For, as the vessel left the Cymrian haven, 
 The faithful hound, whom he had half forgot, 
 
 Swam to the ship, clombe, up the sides, on board, 
 
 Snarled at the Danes, and nestled by its lord. 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 The hirsute Captain, not displeased to sea a 
 New bonne botiche added to the destined roast 
 
 His floating larder had prepared for Freya, 
 Welcomed the dog, as Charon might a ghost ; 
 
 Allowed the beast to share his master's platter. 
 
 And daily eyed them both, — and thought them fatter ! 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 Ev'n in such straits, the Knight of golden tongue 
 Confronts his foe with arguings just and sage. 
 
 Whether in pearls from deeps Druidic strung. 
 Or linked synthetic from the Stagirite's page. 
 
 Labouring to show him how absurd the notion. 
 
 That roasting Gawaine would affect the Ocean. 
 
 f ii t 'i 
 
 If 
 
 i i 
 
 ' i 
 
 LXX. 
 
 But that enlightened tho' unlearned man, 
 
 Posed all the lore Druidical or Attic ; 
 "One truth," quoth he, "instructs the Sons of Ran, 
 
 (A seaman race are always democratic) 
 That truth once known, all else is worthless lumber : 
 ' The greatest pleasure of the greatest number.' 
 
 t/i '.I I 
 
BOOK VIII.] 
 
 KING ABTHUR. 
 
 247 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 " No pleasure iiko a Christian roasted slowly, 
 To Odin's greatest number can be given ; 
 
 The will of freemen to the gods ia holy ; 
 
 The People's voice must be the voice of Heaven. 
 
 On selfish principles you chafe at capture 
 
 But what are private pangs to public rapture ? 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 " You doubt that giving you as food for Freya 
 Will have much marked effect upon the seas ; 
 
 Let's grant you right : — all pleasure's in idea ; 
 If thousands think it, you the thousands please, 
 
 Your private interest must not be the guide, 
 
 When interests clash majorities decide." 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 These doctrines, wise, and worthy of the race 
 From whose free notions modem freedom flows, 
 
 Bore with such force of reasoning on the case, 
 They left the Knight dumbfounded at the close ; 
 
 Foiled in the weapons which he most had boasted. 
 
 He felt sound logic proved he should be roasted. 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 Discreetly waiving farther conversations, 
 He, henceforth, silent lived his little hour ; 
 
 Indulged at times such soothing meditations, 
 
 As, "Flesh is grass,"— and "Life is but a flower." 
 
 For men, like swans, have strains most edifying. 
 
 They never think of till the time for dying. 
 
 i^i 
 
 i 
 
 5/1 
 
248 
 
 KING ARTIIUll 
 
 [dook vin. 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 And now at last, the fatal voyage o'er, 
 
 Sir Gawaine hears the joyous shout of "Lanl !" 
 
 Two Vikings lead him courteously on shore : 
 A crowd as courteous wait him on the strand. 
 
 Fifes, viols, trumpets braying, screaming, strumming, 
 
 Flatter his ears, and compliment his coming. 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 Right on the shore the gracious temple stands. 
 Formed like a ship, and builded but of log ; 
 
 Thither at once the hospitable bands 
 
 Lead the grave Knight and unsuspicious dog, 
 
 Which, greatly pleased to walk on land once more. 
 
 Swells with unprescient bark the tuneful roar. 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 Six Priests and one tall Priestess clothed in white. 
 Advance — and meet them at the porch divine ; 
 
 With sev'n loud shrieks, they pounce upon the Knight, 
 Whisked by the Priests behind the inmost shrine, 
 
 While the tall Priestess asks the congregation 
 
 To come at dawn to witness the ollation 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 Tho' somewhat vexed at this so brief delay — 
 Yet as the rites, in truth, required preparing. 
 
 The flock obedient took themselves away ; — 
 Meanwhile the Knight was on the Idol staring. 
 
 Not without wonder at the tastes terrestrial 
 
 Which in that image hailed a shape celestial. 
 
 j: I 
 
 I' ! 
 
BOOK VIII.] 
 
 KING AllTIIUR. 
 
 249 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 Full thirty ells in height — the goddess stood 
 Based on a column of the bones of men, 
 
 Daubed was her face with clots of human blood, 
 Her jaws as wide, as is a tiger's den ; 
 
 With giant fangs as strong and huge as those 
 
 Tiiat cranch the reeds, thro' which the sea-horse goes. 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 *' Right reverend Sir," quoth he of golden tongue, 
 
 " A most majestic gentlewoman this ! 
 Is it the Freya whom your scalds have sung 
 
 Goddess of love and sweet connubial bliss 1 — 
 If so— despite her very noble carriage. 
 Her charms are scarce what youth desires in marriage." 
 
 Lxxxr. 
 
 " Stranger," said one who seemed the hierarch-priest — 
 
 " In that sublime, symbolical creation. 
 The outward image but conveys the least 
 
 Of Freya's claims on human veneration — 
 But — thine own heart if Love hath ever glowed in, — 
 Thou'lt own that Love is quite as fierce as Odin ! 
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 "Hence, as the cau'^e of full one half our quarrels, 
 Freya with Odin tliares the rites of blood ; — 
 
 In this — thou see'st a hidden depth of morals, 
 But by the vulgar little understood ; — 
 
 We do not roast thee in an idle frolic ; 
 
 But as a type mysterious and symbolic." 
 
250 
 
 KINO AllTIWn. 
 
 [hook vim. 
 
 s !i 
 
 11 
 
 '. S 
 
 I i' 
 
 ; 
 
 \l A\ 
 
 
 Lxxxrir. 
 
 Tlui liiorardi motioiiH to i\w \mv.Hii>, around, 
 'V\\i'y )>in(l tli(! victim to tlir, Statuc'H Ijaso, 
 
 Tlwn, to tho Kni/^lit thoy link tlio won'l<^rinf^ lionnd, 
 S(»nu5 thrcM! yanls <liHtant — looking fac*-, to Uww 
 
 " Ono word," Haid (Jawainc — "^ro your worHliip (juit uh, 
 
 Hew iH it moant that Fn^ya in to rat uh ?" 
 
 I.XXXIV. 
 
 " Stranger," rcplii.'d tlio priest, " albeit W(! hold 
 Such questioiiH idle, and j>erhapH profane ; 
 
 Y<!t much the wiH(i will pardon to the bold — 
 WIk^u what th(\y ank 'tiw (%'iMy to explain — 
 
 Still typing Truth, an<l shaped with Hacr^l art, 
 
 Wc plac(! a furnace in the statue's heart ; 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 "That furnac<i heat<'d by mechanic laws 
 
 Which gods to ])ri(\stH for godlike (iuds p(^rniit. 
 
 Wo lay the victim ))ound across the jaws, 
 And l(^t him slowly turn upon a spit ; 
 
 The jaws — (wluin done to what w<! think tlniir liking) 
 
 Close ; — all is ovt r : — The eUcct is striking." 
 
 LXXXVI. 
 
 At that vecit.'il made in tone complacent 
 
 The frozen Knight stared speechhiss and aghast, 
 
 Stared on those jaws to which Ik; was sul)jac(;nt. 
 And felt the grinders cranch on their rei)ast. 
 
 Meanwhile th<) ]*riest said — " Keep your spirits up, 
 
 And ere I go, say wh(!n you'd like to sup T' 
 
[nooK vrn. 
 
 HOOK VIII.] 
 
 KINO AliTllUH. 
 
 251 
 
 ikI, 
 
 (•ring liound, 
 V, to fa(;((. 
 
 WOFHllip (plit IIH, 
 
 I" 
 
 yv. liold 
 itir. ; 
 M - 
 lin — 
 "(I art,, 
 
 H JH'lIllit, 
 
 { th(!ir liking) 
 
 tid aghast, 
 
 })ja(3(;nt, 
 
 roj)aHt. 
 
 ' HpiritH up, 
 
 t.xxxvir. 
 
 ** Sii]) !" falt(ir(i(l out tlio rnolanclioly Knight, 
 " Sup ? [)iouH Sir — no tr()u})hj tlifTo, I pray ! 
 
 (j}«)()(l tJio' f grant my natural apjx'titfi, 
 'I'lu! thought of I'Vcya'H tak«!H it all away : 
 
 Ah for tho dog — poor, unc-nlightf-n^ul glutton, 
 
 Blind to thc! future, — h*t hin« havo his mutton." 
 
 i,xxxvin. 
 
 'Tin night : Ix-hold th(! dog and inan alon(! ! 
 
 Th(! man han Haid his thiriJrth iiosf.er pafrr, 
 Tho dog has Hup[)f'd, and, having picked his bon«^, 
 
 (Th(! m«',at was Halt<'(l) fcj-js a wish for water, 
 Puts out in vain a rcioonnoitring paw, 
 Feels tho cord, smells it, and hegins to gnaw. 
 
 r.xxxix. 
 
 Abashed JMiilosophy, that dog survey ! 
 
 Thou call'st on freemen — hah ! expand thy scope ! 
 * yfifh' lot loimJlme, ct l)ieu C aider a /* 
 
 Doth tijraldom bind Chec ? — gnaw thyself the, rope, — • 
 Whatever Laws, and Kings, and Statf^s may be ; 
 Wise men in earnest can be always free. 
 
 X(!. 
 
 By a dim lamp u[)on the altar stoix; 
 
 8ir Uawainc marked the inventive work canine ; 
 " Cords bind us both — the dog has gnawed his own ; 
 
 O Dog skoinopliagous* — a tooth for min<; — 
 And both may scape that too-refiniiig (Goddess 
 Who roasts to types what Nature meant for bodies." 
 
 " III CHt " nuKj-catinK "— ft compound oiljcctlvc borrowed from Huch Greek tm Bir 
 Uawaine lai^ht have leanicd at tho then ftouriiihii^; college of Caerleon. 
 
 Il 
 
• ! 
 
 I-. i 
 
 ' ■] 
 
 252 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book VIII. 
 
 XCI. 
 
 Sir Gawaine calls the emancipated hound, 
 And strives to show his own illegal ties ; 
 
 Explaining how free dogs, themselves unbound, 
 With all who would be free should fraternise — 
 
 The dog looked puzzled, licked the fettered hand. 
 
 Pricked up his ears — but would not understand. 
 
 XCII. 
 
 The unhappy Knight perceived the hope was o'er, 
 
 And did again to fate his soul resign ; 
 AVhen hark ! a footstep — and behold ! once more 
 
 Appears the Hierarch of the fatal shrine ; 
 The dog his growl at Gawaine's whisper ceast, 
 And dog and Knight, both silent, watched the priest. 
 
 XCIII. 
 
 The subtle captive saw with much content 
 No sacred comrades had that reverend man ; 
 
 Beneath a load of sacred charcoal bent. 
 The Priest approached ; when Gawaine thus began 
 
 " It shames me much to see you thus bent double, 
 
 And feel myself the cause of so much trouble. 
 
 xciv. 
 
 " Doth Freya's kitchen, ventrical and holy, 
 
 Afford no meaner scullion to prepare 
 The festive rites ? — on you depends it wholly 
 
 To heat the oven and to dress the fare 1 * 
 " To hands less pure are given the outward things, 
 To Hierarchs only, the interior springs," 
 
BOOK VIII.] 
 
 KING ARTIlUn. 
 
 253 
 
 xcv. 
 
 Keplied the Priest — " and till my task is o'er 
 All else intruding, wrath divine incur." 
 
 Sir Gawaine heard and not a sentence more 
 
 Sir Gawaine said, than — " Up and seize him, Sir," 
 
 Sprung at the word, the dog ; and in a trice 
 
 Griped the Priest's throat and locked it like a vice. 
 
 xcvi. 
 
 " Pardon, my sacred friend," then quoth the Knight, 
 " You are not strangled from an idle frolic, 
 
 When bit the biter, you'll confess the bite 
 Is full of sense, mordacious but symbolic ; 
 
 In roasting men, culinary brother, 
 
 Learn this grand truth — ' one turn deserves another 1 ' " 
 
 ■' ty 
 
 \':\ 
 
 XCVII. 
 
 Extremely pleased, the oratoric Knight 
 Regained the vantage he had lost so long. 
 
 For sore, till then, had been his just despite 
 
 That Northern wit should foil his golden '^ngue. 
 
 Now, in debate how proud was his condition, 
 
 The opponent posed and by his own position ! 
 
 xcviii. 
 
 Therefore, with moie than his habitual breeding, 
 Resumed benignantly the bland Gawaine, 
 
 While much the Priest against the dog's proceeding 
 With stifling gasps protested, but in vain — 
 
 " Friend — (softly, dog ; so — ho !) thou must confess 
 
 Our selfish interests bid us coalesce. — 
 
 m 
 
 
254 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book VIII. 
 
 XCIX. 
 
 " Unknit these cords ; and, once unloosed the knot, 
 I pledge my troth to call the hound away, 
 
 If thou accede — a show of hands ! if not 
 Tliat dog at least I fear must have his day." 
 
 High in the air, both hands at once appear I 
 
 " Carried, nem, con,, — Dog, fetch him, — gently, here i" 
 
 c. 
 
 Not without much persuasion yields the hound ! 
 
 Loosens the throat, to gripe the sacred vest. 
 "Priest," quoth Gawaine, "remember, but a sound, 
 
 And straight the dog — let fancy sketch the rest ! " 
 The Priest, by fancy too dismayed already, 
 Fumbles the knot with fingers far from steady. 
 
 CI. 
 
 Hoarse, while he fumbles, growls the dog suspicious, 
 Not liking such close contact to his Lord ; 
 
 The best of friends are sometimes too officious, 
 And grudge all help save that themselves afford. 
 
 His hands set free, the Knight assists the Priest, 
 
 And, finis, funis, stands at last releast. 
 
 CIl. 
 
 True to his word — and party coalitions. 
 
 The Knight then kicks aside the dog, of course ; 
 
 Salutes the foe, and f>tates the new conditions 
 Trii' %ct!« cc-nnected with tne times enforce ; 
 
 All coairij -3 in themselves denote 
 
 That ^Ttate*i»:Tr■loe7r psychosis — ^hange of coat I 
 
 WA 
 
BOOK VIII.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 ■i fr; 
 
 255 
 
 cm. 
 
 " Ergo," quoth Gawaine, — " first the sacred cloak ; 
 
 Next, when two parties but concur j>ro temp-^ 
 Their joint opinions only should be spoke 
 
 By that which has most cause to fear the hemp. 
 Wherefore, my friend, this scarf supplies the gag 
 To keep the cat symbolic — in the bag 1 — " 
 
 CIV. 
 
 So said, so done, before the Priest was able 
 To prove his counter interest in the case. 
 
 The Knight had bound him with the victim's cable, 
 Closed up his mouth and covered up his face, 
 
 His sacred vest with hands profane had taken, 
 
 And left him that which Gawaine had forsaken. 
 
 5* 
 
 cv. 
 
 Then boldly out into the blissful air. 
 
 Sir Gawaine stept ! How solemn-sweet was Night ! 
 With Ocean's heart of music heaving there, 
 
 Under its starry robe ! — and all the might 
 Of rock and shore, and islet deluge-riven. 
 Distinctly dark against the lustrous heaven I 
 
 cvi. 
 
 Calm lay the large rude Nature of the North, 
 Glad as when first the stars rejoicing sang, 
 
 And fresh as when from kindling Chaos forth, 
 A thought of God, the young creation sprang : 
 
 When man in all the present Father found) 
 
 And for the Temple, paused and looked around I 
 
 ifti 
 
256 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book VIII. 
 
 evil. 
 
 Nature, thou earliest gospel of the wise, 
 Thou never-silent hymner unto God ; 
 
 Thou Angel-ladder lost amid the skies, 
 Tho' at the foot we dream upon the sod ; 
 
 To thee the Priesthood of the Lyre belong — 
 
 They hear Eeligion and reply in Song. 
 
 M 
 
 CVIII. 
 
 If he hath held thy worship undefiled 
 Through all the sins and sorrows of his youth, 
 
 Let the Man echo what he heard as Child 
 From the far hill-tops of melodious Truth, 
 
 Leaving on troubled hearts some lingering tone 
 
 Sweet with the solace thou hast given his own ! 
 
S ■ .?! 
 
 
 ■l' 
 
 Ml 
 
 
 |iili 
 
 
 ■1 
 
 1 m 
 
 
 1 
 
 i 
 
 
 m 
 
A K G U M E N T . 
 
 fl! 
 
 Iiivociition to the North —Winter, Labour, and Necessity, as ajjcnts of Civilisation — 
 the Polar Seas describc'l -The lonely Ship ; its Leader and Crew— Honour due from 
 Song to the Discoverer — 'jiie battle with the Walruses— The crash of the floating Icebergs 
 -The ship icc-lockcd— Arthur's address to the Norwegian Crew — They abandon the 
 'essel and reach land —The Dove finds the healing herb— Returns to the ship, which is 
 tirokcn up fur log huts— The winter deepens- The sufferings and torpor of the crew — 
 The eff i^* ' f Will upon life — Will preserves us from ills oui own, not from sympathy 
 with the 1;;.:. of others — Man in his higher development has a two-fold nature— in his 
 imagination and his feelings — Imagination is lonclj-, Feeling social— The strange affection 
 between the King and the Dove —The King sets forth to explore the desert ; his joy at 
 recognising the print of human feet — Tlie attack of the Esquimaux— The meeting 
 between Arthur and his friend— The crew are removed to the ice-huts of the Esquimaux 
 — The adventures of Sir ''> 'waine continued — His imposture in passing himself off as a 
 'iriestof Freya — He cvorci > s the w.nds which the Norwegian hags had tied up in bags — 
 and accompanies the \Vhalers to the North Seas — The storm — How Gawaine and his 
 hound are saved— He delivers the Pigmies from the Bears, and finally establishes himself 
 in the Settlement of the Esquimaux— Philoscphical controversy between Arthur and 
 Gawaine, relative to the Raven— Arthur briefly explains how he came into the Polar 
 Seas in search of the Shield of Thor- Lancelot and Genevra having sailed for Carduci 
 Gawaine informs Arthur that the Esquimaux have a legend of a Shield guarded by a 
 Dwarf— The firsc appearance of the Polar Sun above the horizon. 
 
;'. .11 
 
 Booh Nine. 
 
 1 of Civilisation — 
 lonour duo from 
 ! floating Icebergs 
 'hey abandon tho 
 the ship, which is 
 por of the crew— 
 ot from sympathy 
 old nature— in bin 
 le strange affection 
 
 desert ; his joy at 
 laux— The meeting 
 
 of the Esquimaux 
 ng himself off as a 
 
 d tied up in bags-- 
 V Gawaine and his 
 
 establishes himself 
 
 iNveen Arthur and 
 
 me into the Polar 
 sailed for Car duo i 
 
 Shield guarded by a 
 
 HllO^SED on t>\e (.Ijizzling aiul luitrotldcu height, 
 Fonncd of tho ftwt gems ages labour forth [light 
 yrom the blanohinl air, — crowned with the pomp of 
 r the midst of dark, — stern Father of the North, 
 Thee I invoke, iis, awed, my steps profane 
 The dumb gates opening on thy deathlike reign. 
 
 II. 
 
 Thee, sure the Ithacan — thee, sure, dread lord, 
 Wh<^n in the dusky, wan, Cimmerian waste 
 
 By the last bounds of Ocean, he explored 
 Tlie land of ghosts, beheld ; — and here embraced 
 
 In vain the Phantom Motlier ! lo, the gloom 
 
 Pierced by no sun, — the Hades of tho tomb ! — 
 
 HI. 
 
 Magnificent Horror ! — How like royal Death 
 Broods thy great hush above the seeds of Life ! 
 
 Under the snow-mass cleaves thine icy breath, 
 And, with the birth of fairy f<jrest rife. 
 
 Blushes the world of white ; '■'' — the green that glads 
 
 The wave, is but the march of myriads ; 
 
 ' Tlie phenomenon of the rod snow on tho Arctic moiintaiiis is formed by iiinrnxier- 
 ablc vegetable bodies ; and the olive green of the Greenland Sea by Medusan animal- 
 ciilcR, the number of which Mr. Scorcsby illu,-.trates by supposing that 80,000 jHirsons 
 Would have been employed since the creation in counting it. 
 
 ill 
 
 ir; 
 
2G0 
 
 KING ARTIlUn. 
 
 [book IX. 
 
 M 
 
 « i' 
 
 IV. 
 
 There, immense, moves uncouth k^viathan ; 
 
 There, from the hollows of phantasmal isles, 
 The morse* emerging rears the face of man, 
 
 There the huge lear scents, miles on desolate miles, 
 The basking seal ; — ;md ocean shallower grows, 
 Where, thro' its world a world, the krakent goes. 
 
 V. 
 
 Father of races who have led back Time 
 
 Into the age of Demigods ; — whose art 
 Excels all Egypt's magic — Wizards sublime 
 
 To whom the Elements are slaves ; whose chart 
 Belts worlds which seraphs may not yet have trod, 
 The embryo orbs flashed from the smile of God, — 
 
 VI. 
 
 Imperial Winter, hail ! — All hail with thee 
 
 Man's Demiurgus, Labour, side by side 
 With thy stern grandeur seated kinglily. 
 
 And ever shaping out the fates that guide 
 The onward oycles to the farthest goal 
 r the fields of light, — the loadstone of the soul ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 Winter, and Labour, and Necessity, 
 
 Behold the Three that make us what we are. 
 
 The eternal pilots of a shoreless sea 
 
 The ever-conquering a mies of the Far : 
 
 By these we scheme, invent, ascend, aspire. 
 
 And, pardoned Titans, steal from Heaven the fire ! 
 
 The Morse, or Walrus, supjiosed to be the original of the Mermaii ; from the like- 
 ness its face presents at a little distance to that of a human being. 
 
 t The Kraken is probably not wholly fabulous, but has its prototyjie in the enormous 
 jwlypus of the Arctic Seas. 
 
 * 
 
i-e, 
 
 BOOK IX.] 
 
 KING ARTIWIi 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Dumb Universe of Winter — there it lic« 
 Dim thro* the mist, a spectral skeleton ! 
 
 Far in the wan verge of the soHd skies 
 
 Hangs tlay and night the phantom of jv moon 
 
 And slowly moving on the horizon's ])rink 
 
 Floats the vast ice-field with its glassy blink.''' 
 
 •T 
 
 261 
 
 i"' 
 
 !» 
 
 \ 
 
 IX. 
 
 ^ut huge adown the liquid Infinite 
 
 Drift the sea Andes — by the patient a\ . ath 
 
 Of the strong waves uprooted from their site 
 In bays forlorn ; and on their winter path,— 
 
 Themselves a winter — glide, or heavily, where 
 
 They freeze the wind, halt in the inert air. 
 
 X. 
 
 Nor bird nor beast lessens with visible 
 
 Life, the large awe of space without the sun ; 
 
 Tho' in each atom life unseen doth dwell 
 And glad with gladness God the Living One. 
 
 He breathes — but breathless hangs the air that freeze ! 
 
 He speaks — but noiseless list the silences. 
 
 XI. 
 
 A lonely ship — lone on the measureless sea, 
 Lone in the channel thro' the frozen steeps, 
 
 Like some bold thought launched on infinity 
 By early sage — comes glimmering up the deeps ! 
 
 The dull wave, dirge-like, moans beneath the oar ; 
 
 The dull air heaves with wings that glide before. 
 
 ' The ice-blink seen on the horizon. 
 
 1 
 
 111 
 
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262 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book IX. 
 
 It !' 
 
 XII. 
 
 From earth's warm precincts, thro' the sunless gates 
 That guard the central Niffelheim of Dark, 
 
 Into the heart of the vast Desolate, 
 
 Lone flie^ the Dove before the lonely bark. 
 
 While the crowned seeker of the glory-spell 
 
 Looks to the angel and disdains the hell. 
 
 xm. 
 
 Huddled on deck, one-half that hardy crew 
 Lie shrunk and withered in the biting sky, 
 
 AVith filmy stare and lips of livid hue, 
 A nd sapless limbs that stiffen as they lie ; 
 
 While the dire pest-scourge of the frozen zone 
 
 Rots thro' the vein, and gnaws the knotted bone. 
 
 xiv. 
 
 Yet still the hero-remnant, sires perchance 
 Of Rollo's Norman knighthood, dauntless steer 
 
 Along the deepening horror, and advance 
 Upon the invisible foe, loud chaunting clear 
 
 Some lusty song of Thor, the Hammer-God, 
 
 When o'er those iron seas the Thunderer trod. 
 
 XV. 
 
 And pierced the halls of Lok. Still, while they sung, 
 The sick men lifted dim their languid eyes, 
 
 And palely smiled, and with convulsive tongue 
 Chimed to the choral chaunt in hollow sighs ; 
 
 Living or dying, those proud hearts the same 
 
 Swell to the danger and foretaste the fame. 
 
 I I 
 
[book IX. 
 
 i gates 
 
 lie 
 bone. 
 
 steer 
 3ar 
 od. 
 
 tliey sun 
 
 es, 
 
 gue 
 
 ghs; 
 
 me 
 
 g' 
 
 BOOK IX.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 263 
 
 XV i. 
 
 On, ever on, labours the lonely bark. 
 
 Time in that world seems dead. Nor jocund sun 
 Nor rosy Hesperus dawns ; but visible Dark 
 
 Stands round the ghastly moon. For ever on 
 Labours the lonely bark, thro' lockt defiles 
 That crisping coil around the drifting isles. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Honour, thrice honour unto ye, Brave ! 
 
 And ye, our England's sons, in the later day, 
 "Whose valour to the shores of Hela gave 
 
 Names, — as the guides where the suns deny the ray ; 
 And, borne by hope and vivid strength of soul, 
 Left Man's last landmark on Earth's farthest goal ! 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Whom, nor the unmoulded chaos, with its birth 
 Of uncouth monsters, nor the fierce disease, 
 
 Nor horrible famine, nor the Stygian dearth 
 Of Orcus, dead'ning adamantine seas, 
 
 Scared from the Spirit's grand desire, — TO know ; 
 
 The Galileos of new worlds below. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Man the Discoverer — whosoe'er thou art, 
 Honour to thee for all the lyres of song ! 
 
 Honour to him who leads to Nature's heart 
 One footstep nearer ! To the Muse belong 
 
 All who enact what in the song we read ; 
 
 Man's noblest poem is Man's bravest deotl. 
 
!t 
 
 264 
 
 8) 
 
 ii 
 
 KING ARTHUR 
 
 [book IX. 
 
 XX. 
 
 On, ever on, — when veering to the West 
 
 Into a broader desert leads the Dove ; 
 A larger ripple stirs the ocean's breast, 
 
 A hazier vapour undulates above ; 
 Along the ico fields move the things that live, 
 In those straLge outlines the vague mist-clouds give. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 In flocks the lazy walrus lay around 
 
 Gazing and stolid ; while the dismal crane 
 
 Stalked curious near ; — and, on the hinder ground. 
 Paused indistinct the Fenris of the main. 
 
 The insatiate bear, — to sniff the stranger blood, — 
 
 For Man till then had vanished since the flood. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 And of Man all were fearless.— On the sea 
 The huge leviathans came up to breathe. 
 
 With their young giants leaping forth in glee. 
 Or leaving whirlpools where they sank beneath. 
 
 And round and round the bark the narwal sweeps. 
 
 With white horn glistening thro' the sluggish deeps. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Uprose a bold Norwegian, hunger-stung, 
 
 As near the icy marge a walrus lay, 
 Hurled his strong spear, and smote the beast, and sprung 
 
 Upon the frost-field tow'rds the wounded prey ; — 
 Sprung and recoiled — as, writhing with the pangs. 
 The bulk heaved towards him with its flashing fangs. 
 
 ri I!; 
 
[book IX. 
 
 BOOK IX.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 265 
 
 is give. 
 
 round, 
 
 >od, — 
 od. 
 
 naath. 
 sweeps, 
 ill deeps. 
 
 it, and sprung 
 prey ;— 
 pangs, 
 ling fangs. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Roused to fell life — around their comrade throng, 
 
 Snorting wild wrath, the shapeless, uncouth swarms ; — 
 
 Like moving mounts, slow masses trail along ; 
 Aghast the man beholds the larva-forms — 
 
 Flies — climbs the bark — the deck is scaled — is won ; 
 
 And all the monstrous march rolls lengthening on. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 " Quick to your spears !" the kingly leader cries. 
 
 Spears flash on flashing tusks ; groan the strong planks 
 With the assault : front after front they rise 
 
 With their bright stare ; steel thins in vain their ranks. 
 And dyes with blood their birth-place and their grave ; 
 Mass rolls on mass, as flows on wave a wave. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 These strike and rend the reeling sides below ; 
 
 Those grappling clamber up and load the decks, 
 With looks of wrath so human on the foe, 
 
 That half they seem reanimated wrecks 
 Of what were men in worlds before the Ark. 
 Thus raged the immane and monster war — when, hark, 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 Crashed thro' the dreary air a thunder peal ! 
 
 In their slow courses meet two ice-rock isles 
 Clanging ; the wide seas far-resounding reel ; 
 
 The toppling ruin rolls in the defiles ; 
 The pent tides quicken with the headlong shock ; 
 Broad-billowing heave the long waves from the rock ; 
 
 \S' 
 
IT 
 
 266 
 
 KING ARTHUll 
 
 [book IX. 
 
 '^ II 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 Far down the booming vales precipitous 
 Plunges the stricken galley, — as a steed 
 
 Smit by the shaft runs reinless, — o'er the prows 
 Howl the lashed surges ; Man and monster freed, 
 
 By power more awful, from the savage fray, 
 
 Here roaring sink — there dumbly whirl away. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 The water runs in maelstroms ; — as a reed 
 Spins in an eddy and then skirs along, — 
 
 Round and around emerged and vanished 
 The mighty ship amidst the mightier throng 
 
 Of the revolving hell. With abrupt spring 
 
 Bounding at last — on it shot maddening. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Behind it, thunderous swept the glacier masses, 
 Shivering and splintering, hurtling each on each : 
 
 Narrower and narrower press the frowning passes : — 
 Jammed in the farthest gorge the bark may reach. 
 
 Where the grim Scylla Jocks the direful way. 
 
 The fierce Charybdis flings her mangled prey. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 As if a living thing, in every part 
 
 The vessel groans — and with a dismal chime 
 
 Cracks to the cracking ice ; asunder start 
 
 Its ribbed planks : — and, clogg'd and freezing, climb 
 
 Thro* cleft and chink, as thro' their native caves. 
 
 The gelid armies of the hardening waves. 
 
BOOK IX.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 267 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 One sigh whose lofty pity did embrace 
 The vanished many, the surviving few, 
 
 Tlie Cymrian gave — then with a cheering fivce 
 He spoke, and breathed his soul into the crew. 
 
 *' Ye, whom the haught desire of Fame, whose air 
 
 Is storm, — and tales of what your fathers were, 
 
 XXXIII 
 
 " What time their valour wrought such deeds below 
 As made the valiant lift them to the gods, — 
 
 Impelled with me to spare all meaner foe, 
 And vanquish Nature in the fiend's abodes ; — 
 
 Droop not nor faint, ye who survive, to give 
 
 Themes to such song as bids your Odin live, 
 
 XiXlV. 
 
 " And to preserve from the oblivious sea 
 What it in vain engulfs ; — for all that life, 
 
 When noble, lives for — ib the memory ! 
 
 The wave hath plucked us from the monster strife, 
 
 Lo where the icebay frees us from the wave, 
 
 And yields a port in what we deemed a grave. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 ** Up and at work all hands to lash the bark 
 With grappling hook, and cord, and iron band 
 
 To yon firm peak, the Ararat of our ark. 
 
 Then with good heart pierce to the vapour-land ; 
 
 For the crane's scream, and the bear's welcome roar 
 
 Tell where the wave joins solid to the shore." 
 
 
 • 'M: 
 
 it 
 
 iii 
 
 
r 
 
 
 *( 
 
 268 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [BOOK IX. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 Swift as he spoke, the gallant Northmen sprang 
 On the sharp ice, — drew from the frozen blocks 
 
 The mangled wreck ; — with many a barbed fang 
 And twisted cable to the horrent rocks 
 
 Moored : and then, shouting up the solitude, 
 
 Their guiding star, the Dove's pale wing, pursued. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 Well had divined the King, — as on they glide, 
 
 They see the silvery Arctic fox at play. 
 Sure sign of land, — and, scattering wild and wide. 
 
 Clamour the sea gulls, luring to his prey 
 The ravening glaucus* sudden shooting o'er 
 The din of wings from the grey gleaming shore. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 At length they reach the land, — if land that be 
 Which seems so like the frost-piles of the deep, 
 
 That where commenced the soil and ceased the sea. 
 Shews dim as is the bound between the sleep 
 
 And waking of some wretch whose palsied brain 
 
 Dulls him to ev'n the slow return of pain. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 Advancing farther, burst upon the eye 
 
 Patches of green miraculously isled 
 In the white desert. Oh ! the rapture-cry 
 
 That greeted God and gladdened thro* the wild ! 
 The very sight suffices to restore. 
 Green Earth — green Earth — the Mother, smiles once more. 
 
 ' Tlic Lams Olaucua, the great bird of prey in the Polar regions. 
 
BOOK IX.] 
 
 KINO ARTHUR. 
 
 269 
 
 XL. 
 
 Blithe from the turf, the Dove the blessed leaves* 
 That heal the slow plague of the sunless dearth, 
 
 Bears to each sufferer whom the curse bereaves 
 Ev'n of all hope, save graves in that dear earth. 
 
 Woo'd by the kindly King they taste, to know 
 
 How to each ill God plants a cure below. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 Long mused the anxious hero, if to dare 
 Once more the fearful sea — or from the bark 
 
 Shape rugged huts, and wait, slow lingering there, 
 Till Eos, issuing from the gates of Dark, 
 
 Unlock the main ; dread choice on either hand — 
 
 The liquid Acheron, or the Stygian land. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 At length, resolved to seize the refuge given. 
 Once more he leads the sturdiest of the crew 
 
 Back to the wreck — the planks, asunder riven. 
 And such scant stores as yet the living few 
 
 May for new woes sustain, are shoreward borne ; 
 
 And hasty axes shape the homes forlorn. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 Now, every chink closed on the deathful air, 
 In the dark cells the weary labourers sleep ; 
 
 Deaf to the hoarse growl of the hungering bear. 
 And the dull thunders clanging on the deep — 
 
 Till on their waking sense the discords peal, 
 
 And to the numb hand cleaves unfelt the steel. 
 
 "^ Herbs which act as the antidotes to the scurvy (the chochlearia, kc.) are found under 
 t'.te snows, when all other vegetation seems to cease. 
 
 ■\\ 
 
 
 I 
 
 lill 
 
 !i: 
 
If 
 
 270 
 
 KING AimiUll 
 
 [bouk IX. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 What boots long told the tale of life one war 
 
 With the relentless iron Element 1 
 More, day by day, the mounting snows debar 
 
 Ev'n search for food, — yet oft the human scent 
 Lures the wild beast, which, mangling while it dies, 
 Bursts on the prey, to fall itself the prize. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 But as the winter deepens, ev'n the beast 
 
 Shrinks from its breath, and with the loneliness 
 
 To Famine leaves the solitary feast. 
 
 Suffering halts patient in its last excess. 
 
 Closed in each fireless, lightless, foodless cave 
 
 Cowers a dumb ghost unconscious of its grave. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 Nature hath stricken down in that waste world 
 All — save the soul of Arthur ! That, sublime. 
 
 Hung, on the wings of heavenward faith unfurled, 
 O'er the far light of the predicted time ; 
 
 Believe thou hast a mission to fulfil, 
 
 And human valour grows a Godhead's will : 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 Calm to that fate, above the moment given, 
 Shall thy strong soul divinely dreaming go. 
 
 Unconscious as an eagle, entering heaven, 
 Where its still shadow skims the rocks below : 
 
 High beyond this, its actual world is wrought, 
 
 And its true life is in its sphere of thought. 
 
[book IX. 
 
 BOOK IX.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 271 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 Yet who can 'scape the infection of the heart ? 
 
 Who, tho' himself invulnerably steeled, 
 Can boast a breast indifferent to the *dart 
 
 That threats the life his love in vain would shield ? 
 When some large nature, curious, we behold 
 How twofold comes it from tho glorious mould ! 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 How lone, and yet how living in the All ! 
 
 While it imagines how aloof from men ! 
 How like the ancestral Adam ere the fall, 
 
 In Eden bowers the painless denizen ! 
 But when it feels — the lonely heaven resigned — 
 How social moves the man among mankind ! 
 
 L. 
 
 Forth from the tomb-like hamlet strays the King, 
 Restless with ills from which himself is free j 
 
 In that dun air the only living thing. 
 
 He skirts the margin of the soundless sea ; 
 
 No — not alone, the musing Wanderer strays ; 
 
 Still glides the Dove along the dismal ways. 
 
 LI. 
 
 Nor can tongue tell, nor thought conceive how far 
 Into that storm-beat heart, the gentle bird 
 
 Had built the halcyon's nest. How precious are 
 In desolate hours, the Affections ! — How, unheard 
 
 Mid Noon's melodious myriads of delight, 
 
 Thrills the lone note that steals the gloom from night ! 
 
 I 
 
 
 ti 
 
 \ 
 
 Hil 
 
 11 
 
i 
 
 272 
 
 KINO ARTHUR. 
 
 [book IX. 
 
 'I 
 
 LII. 
 
 And, in return, a human love replying 
 
 To his caress, seemed in those eyes to dwell, 
 
 That mellow murmur, like a human sighing, 
 
 Seemed from those founts that lie i' the heart to swell. 
 
 Love wants not speech ; from silence speech it builds. 
 
 Kindness like light speaks in the air it gilds. 
 
 LIII. 
 
 That angel guide ! His fate while leading on, 
 It followed each quick movement of his soul. 
 
 As the soft shadow from the setting sun 
 Precedes the splendour passing to its goal, 
 
 Before his path the gentle herald glides, 
 
 Its life reflected from the life it guides. 
 
 LIV. 
 
 Was Arthur sad 1 how saddened seemed the Dove ! 
 
 Did Arthur hope 1 how gaily soared its wings ! 
 Like to that sister spirit left above, 
 
 The half of ours, which, torn asunder, springs 
 Ever thro' space, yearning to join once more 
 The earthlier half, its own and Heavens before ; 
 
 LV. 
 
 Like an embodied living Sympathy 
 Which hath no voice and yet replies to all 
 
 That wakes the lightest smile, the faintest sigh, — 
 So did the instinct and the mystery thrall 
 
 To the earth's son the daughter of the air ; 
 
 And pierce his soul — to place the sister there. 
 
[book IX. 
 
 BOOK IX.] 
 
 ; AiiTiiifii 
 
 273 
 
 (art to swell, 
 it builds, 
 
 oul. 
 I, 
 
 le Dove I 
 wings ! 
 
 prings 
 •e 
 jfore ; 
 
 lall 
 sigli,— 
 
 ai 
 
 ^ere. 
 
 LVI. 
 
 Slic was to him ti8 to tho bnnl liis Muso, 
 
 The solace of a swcot confessional ; 
 The hopes — the fears which manly lips refuse 
 
 To speak to man, — those leaves of thought that fall 
 With every tremulous zephyr from tho Tree 
 Of Life, whii'led from us down the darksome sea ; — 
 
 LVI I. 
 
 Those hourly springs and winters of tho heart 
 
 Weak to reveal to Reason's sober eye, 
 Tho proudest yet will to tho Muse impart 
 
 And grave in song the record of a sigh. 
 And hath the Muse no symbol in tho Dove ? — 
 Both give what hearts miss most in human love. 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 Over the world of winter strays the king, 
 
 Seeking some track of Hope — some savage prey 
 
 Which, famished, fronts and feeds the famishing ; 
 Or some dim outlet in the darkling way 
 
 From the dumb grave of snows which form with snows 
 
 Wastes wide as realms thro' which a spectre goes. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 Amazed he halts : — Lo, on Uio rimy layer 
 That clothes sharp peaks — the print of human feet ! 
 
 An awe thrilled thro' him, and thus spoke in prayer, 
 " Thee, God, in man once more then do I greet ? 
 
 Hast thou vouchsafed the brother to the brother, 
 
 Links which reweave thy children to each other 1 
 S 
 
 I 
 
 < 
 
 i 
 
 , . 
 
 If 1 1 f V 
 
 M 
 
 ■ i 
 
 
 . \'\ 
 
 |! 
 
274 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book IX. 
 
 il 
 
 
 
 LX. 
 
 " Be they the rudest of the clay divine 
 
 Warmed with the breath of soul, how faint so ever, 
 Yea, tho' their race but threat new ills to mine. 
 
 All hail the bond thy sons cannot dissever ! 
 Bowed to thy will, of life or death dispose. 
 But if not human friends, grant human foes ! " 
 
 LXI. 
 
 Thus while he prayed, blithe from his bosom flew 
 The guiding Dove, along the frozen plain 
 
 Of a mute river, winding, vale-like, thro* 
 Rocks lost in vapour from the voiceless main. 
 
 And as the man pursues, more thickly seen. 
 
 The foot-prints tell where man before has been. 
 
 LXII. 
 
 Sudden a voice — a yell, a whistling dart ! 
 
 Dim thro' the fog, behold a dwarf-like band, 
 As from the inner earth, its goblins, start ; 
 
 Here threatening rush, there hoarsely gibbering stand ! 
 Halts the firm hero ; mild but undismayed, 
 Grasps the charmed hilt, but not unsheathes the blade. 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 And, with a kingly gesture eloquent. 
 
 Seems to command the peace, not shun the fray, 
 
 Daunted they back recoil, yet not relent ; 
 As hunters round the forest lord at bay, 
 
 Beyond his reach they form the deathful ring, 
 
 And every shaft is fitted to the string. 
 
[book 
 
 IX. 
 
 tit so ever, 
 
 line. 
 
 r! 
 
 s 1 
 
 a 
 
 I" 
 
 flew 
 
 mam. 
 
 n, 
 been. 
 
 )and, 
 libbering stand ! 
 
 k 
 
 les the blade. 
 
 the fray, 
 
 Irmg, 
 
 BOOK IX.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 When in the circle a grand shape appears, 
 Day's lofty child amid those dwarfs of Night, 
 
 Ev'n thro' the hides of beasts, (its garb,) it rears 
 The glorious aspect of a son of light. 
 
 Hushed at that presence was the clamouring crowd ; 
 
 Dropped every hand and every knee wfis bowed. 
 
 LXV. 
 
 275 
 
 Forth then alone, the man approached the King ; 
 
 And his own language smote the Cymrian's ear. 
 " What fates, unhappy one, a stranger bring 
 
 To shores," — he started, stopt, — and bounded near j 
 Gazed on that front august, a moment's space, — 
 Rushed, — lockt the wanderer in a long embrace ; 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 Weeping and laughing in a breath, the cheek. 
 The lip he kist — then kneeling, claspt the hand ; 
 
 And gasping, sobbing, sought in vain to speak — 
 
 Meanwhile the king the beard-grown visage scanned : 
 
 Amazed — he knew his Carduel's comely lord. 
 
 And the warm heart to heart as warm restored ! 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 Speech c me at length : first mindful of the lives 
 
 Clainr lag his care and periled for his sake 
 Not yet the account that love demands and gives 
 
 The generous leader paused to yield and take ; 
 Brief words his followers' wants and woes explain ; — 
 " Light, warmth, and food." — '* Sat verhim" quoth Gawaine. 
 
 m 
 
 
 ■ a 
 
 1: 
 
 
 1 i p i 
 
 
 Mt tiM 
 
 H11 
 
 1 
 
 1 ! ' 
 
 !■ t 
 
 I 
 
 
 hi 
 
 I 
 
276 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book IX. 
 
 LXVIII, 
 
 Quick to his wondering and Pigmaean troops — 
 
 Quick sped the Knight ; — he spoke and was obeyed j 
 
 Vanish once more the goblin-visaged groups 
 And soon return caparisoi ;d for aid ; 
 
 Laden with oil to warm ana light the air, 
 
 Flesh from the seal, and mantles from the bear. 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 Back with impatient rapture bounds the King, 
 Smiling as he was wont to smile of yore ; 
 
 While Gawainc, blithsome as a bird of spring, 
 Sends his sweet laughter ringing to the shore ; 
 
 Runs thro' that maze of questions, " How and Why % " 
 
 And lost in joy stops never for reply. 
 
 LXX. 
 
 Before them roved wild dogs too numb to bark, 
 
 Led by one civilized, majestic hound. 
 Who scarcely deigned his followers to remark, 
 
 Save, when they touched him, by a snarl profound. 
 Teaching that plebs, as history may my readers, 
 How curs are looked on by patrician leaders. 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 Now gained the huts, silent with drowsy life. 
 That scarcely feels the quick restoring skill ; 
 
 Trained with stern elements to wage the strife. 
 The pigmy race are Nature's conquerors still. 
 
 With practised hands they chafe the frozen veins. 
 
 And gradual loose the chill heart from its chains ; 
 
[book IX. 
 
 BOOK IX.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 277 
 
 
 as obeyed \ 
 
 )ear. 
 
 mg, 
 
 ing, 
 
 shore ; 
 and Why r' 
 
 Dark, 
 
 lark, 
 
 rl profound. 
 
 saders, 
 
 ers. 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 Heap round the limbs the fur's thick warmth of fold, 
 And gild with cheerful oil the leaden air, 
 
 Slow wake the eyes of Famine to behold 
 The smiling faces and the proffered fare ; 
 
 Bank tho' the food, 'tis that which best supplies 
 
 The powers exhausted by the withering skies. 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 This done, they next the languid sufferers bear, 
 AVrapt from the cold, athwart the vapoury shade. 
 
 Regain the vale, and show the homes that there 
 Art's earliest god. Necessity, had made ; 
 
 Abodes hewn out from ^vinter, winter-proof. 
 
 Ice-blocks the walls, and hollowed ice the roof ! * 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 Without, the sno^vy lavas, hardening o'er. 
 
 Hide from the beasts the buried homes of men, 
 
 But in the dome is placed the artful door 
 Thro' which the inmate gai!is or leaves the den. 
 
 Down thro' the chasm each lowers the living load. 
 
 Then from the winter seals the pent abode. 
 
 ] i lii 
 
 in I II 
 
 life, 
 skill; 
 strife, 
 :s still, 
 en veins, 
 chains ; 
 
 * The houses of the Esquimaux who received Captain Lyon were thua oonatructed : 
 —the frozen snow beinj; formed into slabs of about two feet long and half a foot thick ; 
 the benches were made with snow, strewed with twigs, and covered wit>h sliins ; and 
 the lamp suspended from the roof, fed with seal or walrus oil, was the sole substitute 
 for the hearth, furnished light and fire for cooking. 
 
 The Esquimaux were known to the settlers and pirates of Norway by the con- 
 temptuous name of dwarfs or pigmies.— CSArcelli/tj/s J 
 
 \\ 
 
 '{'.v. 
 
! 
 
 4" 
 
 278 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book IX. 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 There, ever burns, sole source of warmth and light. 
 The faithful lamp the whale or walrus gives. 
 
 Thus, Lord of Europe, in the heart of Night, 
 Unjoyous not, thy patient brother lives ! 
 
 To thee desire, to him possession sent. 
 
 Thine worlds of wishes, — his that inch, Content ! 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 But Gawaine's home, more dainty than the rest. 
 Betrayed his tastes exotic and luxurious, 
 
 The walls of ice in furry hangings drest 
 Formed an apartment elegant if curious ; 
 
 Like some gigantic son of Major Ursa 
 
 Turned inside out by barbarous vice versa. 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 Here then he lodged his royal guest and friend. 
 And, having placed a slice of seal before him. 
 
 Quoth he, " Thou ask'st me for my tale, attend ; 
 Then give me thine : *Heus renovo dol&rem ! " 
 
 Therewith the usage villainous and rough. 
 
 Schemed in cold blood by that malignant chough ; 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 The fraudful dinner — its dessert a wife ; — 
 The bridal roof with nose-assaulting glaive ; 
 
 The oak whose leaves with pinching imps were rife ; 
 The atrocious trap into the Viking's cave , 
 
 The chief obdurate in his crass idea 
 
 Of proving Freedom by a roast to Freya ; 
 
BOOK IX.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 279 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 The graphic portrait of the Nuptial goddess ; 
 
 And diabolic if symbolic spit ; 
 Tlie hierarch's heresy on types and bodies ; 
 
 And how at last he posed and silenced it ; 
 All facts traced clearly to that corvus niger, 
 Were told with pathos that had touched a tiger. 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 So far the gentle sympathizing Nine 
 
 I n dulcet strains have sung Sir Gawaine's woes ; 
 What now remains they bid the historic line 
 
 With Dorian dryness unadorned disclose ; 
 Poets are formed to traverse earth and sky, 
 They who can walk not never yet could fly. 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 Along the beach Sir Gawaine and the hound 
 Had roved all night, and at the dawn of day 
 
 Come unawares upon a squadron bound 
 To fish for whales, arrested in a bay 
 
 For want of winds, which certain Norway hags 
 
 Had squeezed from heaven and bottled up in bags. 
 
 LXXXI I. 
 
 Straight when the seamen, fretting on the shore, 
 Behold a wanderer clad as Freya's priest. 
 
 They rush, and round him kneeling, they implore 
 The runes, by which the winds may be releast : 
 
 The spurious priest a gracious answer made, 
 
 And told them Freya sent him to their aid ; 
 
 3?) 
 
 
 I 
 
 ■'J 
 11 :^ 
 
 ■ ' 1 ' ■ 1 
 
 tin 
 
 fillip 
 
 
 IB 
 
 i! 
 
 ;| 
 
 . (,:.,'H 
 
I 
 
 ISl 
 
 280 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book IX. 
 
 LXXXIII. 
 
 Bade tliem conduct himself and hound on board, 
 And broil two portions of their choicest meat. 
 
 " Tlie spell," quoth he, " our sacred arts afford 
 To free the wind, is in the food we eat ; 
 
 We dine, and dining exorcise the witches. 
 
 And loose the bags from their infernal stitches. 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 " Haste then, my children, and dispel the wind ; 
 
 Haste, for the bags are awfully inflating ! " 
 The ship is gained. Both priest and dog have dined ; 
 
 The crews assembled on the decks are waiting. 
 A heavier man arose the audacious priest, 
 And stately stepped he west and stately east ; 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 Mutely invoked St. David and St. Bran 
 
 To charge a stout north-western with their blessing ; 
 Then cleared his throat and lustily began 
 
 A howl of vowels huge from Taliessin. 
 Prone fell the crews before the thundering tunes. 
 In words like mountains rolled the enormous runes ; 
 
 LXXXVI. 
 
 The excited hound, symphonious with the song. 
 Yelled as if heaven and earth were rent asunder ; 
 
 The rocks Orphean seemed to dance along ; 
 
 The affrighted whales plunged waves affrighted under ; 
 
 Polyphlosboian, onwards booming, bore 
 
 The deafening, strident, rauquc, Homeric roar ! 
 
BOOK IX.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 281 
 
 LXXXVII. 
 
 As lions lash themselves to louder ire, 
 
 By his own song the knight sublimely stung 
 
 Caught the full cestro of the poet's fire, 
 
 And grew more stunning every note he sung : 
 
 In each dread blast a patriot's soul exhales, 
 
 And Norway quakes before the storm in Wales. 
 
 LXXXVIII. 
 
 Whether, as grateful Cymri should believe, 
 That blatant voice heroic burst the bags, 
 
 For sure it might the caves of Boreas cleave, 
 Much more the stitchwork of such losel hags — 
 
 Or heaven, on any terms, resolved on peace ; 
 
 The wind sprung up before the Knight would cease. 
 
 LXXXIX. 
 
 Never again hath singer heard such praise 
 As Gawaine heard ; for never since hath song 
 
 Found out the secret how the wind to raise : — 
 Around the charmer now the seamen throng. 
 
 And bribe his blest attendance on their toil. 
 
 With bales of bear-skin and with tuns of oil. 
 
 xo. 
 
 Well pleased to leave the inhospitable shores. 
 The artful Knight yet slowly seemed to yield — 
 
 Now thro' the ocean plunge the brazen prores ; 
 They pass the threshold of the world congealed ; 
 
 Surprise the snorting mammoths of the main ; 
 
 And pile the decks with Pelions of the slain. 
 
 l!:M 
 
 \-A 
 
282 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book IX. 
 
 XCI. 
 
 When, in the midmost harvest of the spoil, 
 
 Pounce comes a storm unspeakably more hideous 
 
 Than that which drove upon the Lybian soil 
 Anchises' son the pious and perfidious, 
 
 When whooping Notus, as the Nine assure us, 
 
 Rushed out to play with Africus and Eurus. 
 
 XCII. 
 
 Torn each from each, or down the maelstrom whirled, 
 Or grasped engulpht by the devouring sea, 
 
 Or on the ribs of hurrying icebergs hurled, 
 The sundered vessels vanish momently. 
 
 Scarce thro' the blast which swept his own, Gawaine 
 
 Heard the crew shrieking " Chaunt the runes again ! " 
 
 XCIII. 
 
 Far other thoughts engaged the prescient knight, 
 Fast to a plank he lashed himself and hound ; 
 
 Scarce done, ere, presto, shooting out of sight. 
 The enormous eddy spun him round and round. 
 
 Along the deck a monstrous wave had poured, 
 
 Caught up the plank and tossed it overboard. 
 
 xciv. 
 
 What of the ship became, saith history not. 
 
 What of the man — the man himself shall show. 
 " Like stone from sling," quoth Gawaine, " I was shot 
 
 Into a ridge of what they call a/oe,* 
 There much amazed, but rescued from the waters, 
 Myself and hound took up our frigid quarters. 
 
 * The smaller kind of ice-field is called by the northern whale fishers, ' a floe'— the 
 name is probably of very ancient date. 
 
 I'l- 
 
nooK IX.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 283 
 
 xcv. 
 
 "Freed from the plank, drenched, spluttering, stunned, and 
 bruised. 
 
 We peered about us on the sweltering deep. 
 And seeing nought, and being much confused, 
 
 Crept side by side and nestled " ito sleep. 
 The nearest kindred most avoid each other. 
 So to shun Death, we visited his brother. 
 
 xcvi. 
 
 " Awaked at last, we found the waves had stranded 
 
 A store of waifs portentous and nefarious ; 
 Here a dead whale was at my elbow landed. 
 
 There a sick Polypus, that sea-Briareus, 
 Stretched out its claws to incorporate my corpus ; 
 While howled the hound half buried by a porpoise. 
 
 xcvii. 
 
 " Nimbly I rose, disporpoising my friend : — ^ 
 
 Around me scattered lay more piteous wrecks. 
 
 With every wave the accursed Tritons send 
 Some sad memento of submergent decks. 
 
 Prows, rudders, casks, ropes, blubber, hides, and hooks. 
 
 Sailors, salt beef, tubs, cabin boys, and cooks. 
 
 i 
 
 XCVIII. 
 
 " Graves on the dead, with pious care bestowed, 
 (Graves in the ice hewn out with mickle pain 
 
 By axe and bill, which with the waifs had flowed 
 To that strange shore) I next collect the gain ; 
 
 Placed in a hollow cleft — and covered o'er ; 
 
 Then knight and hound proceeded to explore. 
 
 I, 
 
 
 \\ 
 
 : 
 
 i 
 
 1 
 
 
u f 
 
 284 
 
 KING ARTHUR, 
 
 [book IX. 
 
 XCIX. 
 
 '' Far had we wandered, for the storm had joined 
 To a great isle of ice, our friend the floe. 
 
 When as the day (three hours its length !) declined, 
 Out brayed a roar ; I stared around, and lo 
 
 A flight of dwarfs about the size of sea-moths, 
 
 Chased by two bears that might have eat behemoths ! 
 
 c. 
 
 " Armed with the axe the Tritons had ejected, 
 I rushed to succor the Pigmtean nation. 
 
 In strife our valour, I have oft suj^pectcd, 
 Proportions safety to intoxication, 
 
 As drunken men securely walk on walls 
 
 From which the wretch who keeps his senses falls ; 
 
 CI. 
 
 Ltvili « 
 
 " The blood mounts up, suffuses sight and brr 
 yhe Hercles vein hercuTeanates the form ; 
 
 The rill when swollen swallows up a plain. 
 The breeze runs mad before it blows a storm. 
 
 To do great deeds, first lose your wits, — then do them ; 
 
 In fine — I burst upon the bears, and slew them. 
 
 CII. 
 
 " The dvvarfs, delivered, kneel, and pull their noses ;* 
 In tugs which mean to say * the Pigmy Nation 
 
 A vote of thanks respectfully proposes 
 From all the noses of the corporation.' 
 
 Your Highness knows *3f agister Artis Venter :^ 
 
 On signs for breakfast my replies concenter ; 
 
 * A salutation still in vo^ie among certain tribes of iYis Esquimaux. 
 
BOOK IX.] 
 
 KINO AltTJIUli 
 
 285 
 
 cm. 
 
 " Quick they conceive, and quick obey ; the beasts 
 Are skinned, and drawn, and quartered in a trice, 
 
 But Vulcan leaves Diana to the feasts, 
 
 And not a wood-nymph consecrates the ice ; 
 
 Bear is but so-so, when 't is cooked the best, — 
 
 But bear just skinned and i)erfectly undrest ! 
 
 CIV. 
 
 '' Then I bethink me of the planks and casks 
 Stowed in the cleft — for fuel quantum miff. : 
 
 I draw the dwarfs — sore-chattering, from their tasks, 
 Choose out the morsels least obdurely tough ; 
 
 With these I load the Pigmies — bid them follow — 
 
 Eegain the haven, and review the hollow. 
 
 cv. 
 
 ** But when those minnow-men beheld the whale 
 
 It really was a spectacle affecting : 
 They shout, they sob, they leap — embrace the tail, 
 
 Peep in the jaws ; then, round me re-collecting, 
 Draw forth those noselings from their hiding places, 
 Which serve as public speakers to their faces. 
 
 cvi. 
 
 " While I revolve what this salute may mean, 
 They rush once more upon the poor balaena, 
 
 Clutch — rend — gnaw — bolt the blubber ; but the lean 
 Reject as drying to the duodena : 
 
 This done, — my broil they aid me to obtain. 
 
 And, while I eat — the noses go again. 
 
 I 1 
 
 ill 
 
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 f 
 
 !l 
 
 i|!i 
 
 ir" 
 
 
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 i:^^ I: 
 
 r. :. 
 
286 
 
 KINO ARTIWn. 
 
 [book IX. 
 
 
 i 
 
 C'VII. 
 
 " My talc is closed — the grateful pigmies lead 
 Myself and hound across the ico defiles ; 
 
 Regain their people and recite my deed, 
 
 Describe the monsters and display the spoils ; 
 
 With royal rank my feats the dwarfs repay, 
 
 And Imild the palace which you now survey. 
 
 C'VIII. 
 
 '* The vanquished bears are trophied on the wall ; 
 
 The oil you scent once floated in the whale ; 
 I had a vision to illume the hall 
 
 With lights less fragrant, — human hopes are frail ! 
 With cares ingenious from the bruins' fat, 
 I made some candles, — which the ladies .ate. 
 
 cix. 
 
 " 'Tis now your turn to tell the tale, Sir King, — 
 And by the way our comrade, Lancelot ? 
 
 I hope he found a raven in the ring ! 
 
 Monstrum horrendum / — Sire, I question not 
 
 That in your justice yo"u have heard enough 
 
 When we get home — to crucify that chough." 
 
 ex. 
 
 " Gawaine," said Arthur, with his quiet smile, 
 " Methinks thy heart will soon absolve the raven, 
 
 Thy friend had perished in this icy isle 
 But for thy voyage to the Viking's haven, 
 
 In every ill wich gives thee such offence. 
 
 Thou see'st the raven, I the Providence ! " 
 
[book IX. 
 
 irall; 
 
 >; 
 
 re 
 
 frail 
 
 g>— 
 
 raven, 
 
 BOOK IX.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 287 
 
 CXI. 
 
 The knight rcUictant shook his learned head ; 
 
 " So please you, Sire, you cannot find a thief 
 Who picks our pouch, but Providence hath led 
 
 His steps to pick it ; — yet, to my belief. 
 There's not a judge who'd scruple to exhibit 
 That proof of Providence upon a gibbet. 
 
 ex II. 
 
 " The chough was sent by Providence : — Agreed : 
 Then send the chough to Providence, in turn ! 
 
 Yet in the hound and not the chough, indeed. 
 Your friendly sight should Providence discern ; 
 
 For had the hound been just a whit less nimble. 
 
 Thanks to the chough, your friend had been a symbol." 
 
 CXIII. 
 
 "Thy logic," answered Arthur, "is unsound. 
 But for the chough thou never hadst been married : 
 
 But for the wife thou ne'er hadst seen the hound ; — 
 The Ah initio to the chough is carried : 
 
 The hound is but the effect — the chough the cause." 
 
 The generous Gawaine murmured his applause. 
 
 cxiv. 
 
 " Do veniam Corvo ! Sire, the chough's acquitted !" 
 " For Lancelot next," quoth Arthur, " be at ease, 
 
 The task fulfilled to which he was permitted. 
 The ring veered home — I left him on the seas. 
 
 Ere this, be sure he hails the Cymrian shore. 
 
 And gives to Carduel one great bulwark more." 
 
 >n 
 
 \\ 
 
 I I ^ I 
 
 Hifc 
 
SI 
 
 288 
 
 i 
 
 Ill I 
 
 '^i f 
 
 
 If I 
 
 i 
 
 KING ARTHUU. 
 
 [book IX. 
 
 cxv. 
 
 Then Arthur told of fair Gencvra flying 
 
 From the scorned nuptials of the heathen fane ; 
 
 Her runic bark to his emprize supplying 
 
 The steed that bore him to the Northern main ; 
 
 While she with cheek that blush( d the prayer to tell, 
 
 Implored a Christian's home in Carduel. 
 
 cxvi. 
 
 The gentle King well versed in woman's heart, 
 And all the vestal thoughts that tend its shrine, 
 
 On Lancelot smiled — and answered, " Maid, depart ; 
 Though o'er our roofs the thunder-clouds combine. 
 
 Yet love shall guard, whatever war betide. 
 
 The Saxon's daughter- 
 
 -or the Cymrian's bride." 
 
 CXVII. 
 
 A stately ship from glittering Spezia bore 
 To Cymrian ports the lovers from the King ; 
 
 Then on, the Seeker of the Sliield, once more. 
 With patient soul pursued the heavenly wing. 
 
 Wild tho' that crew, his heart enthralls their own ; — 
 
 The great are kings wherever they are thrown. 
 
 CXVIII. 
 
 Nought of that mystery which the Spirit's priesc. 
 True Love, draws round the aisles behind the veil. 
 
 Could Arthur bare to that light joyous breast, — 
 Life hath its inward as its outward tale, 
 
 Our lips reveal our deeds, — our sufferings shun ; 
 
 What we have felt, how few can tell to one ! 
 
[book IX. 
 
 I fane ; 
 
 main ', 
 •er to tell, 
 
 lart, 
 shrine, 
 1, depart ; 
 3 combine, 
 
 )ride." 
 
 Lore, 
 
 wing. 
 
 jir own ; — 
 
 )wn. 
 
 pricsi;, 
 id the veil, 
 3ast, — 
 
 Ishun ; 
 le! 
 
 BOOK IX.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR 
 
 289 
 
 CXIX. 
 
 The triple task -the sword not sought in vain, 
 The shield yet hidden in the caves of Lok, 
 
 Of these spoke Arthur, — " Certes," quoth Gawaine, 
 When the King ceased — " strange legends of a rock 
 
 Where a fierce Dwarf doth guard a shield of light, 
 
 Oft have I heard my pigmy friends recite ; 
 
 cxx. 
 
 " Permit me now your royal limbs to wrap. 
 In these warm relicts of departed bears ; 
 
 And while from Morpheus you decoy a nap, 
 My skill the grain shall gather from the tares. 
 
 The pigmy tongue my erudite pursuits 
 Have traced ad xinguem to the nasal roots." 
 
 CXXI. 
 
 The AVanderer sleeps— sleep all his ghastly crew ; 
 
 How long they know not, guess not — night and dawn 
 Long since commingled in one livid hue ; 
 
 Like that long twilight o'er the portals drawn, 
 Behind whose threshold spreads eternity : — 
 When the sleep burst, and sudden in the sky 
 
 CXXII. 
 
 Stands the great Sun ! — As, on the desperate, — Hope, 
 As Glory o'er the dead, — as Freedom on 
 
 Men who snap chains ; or likest Truths that ope 
 Life, in God's word, on charnels, — stands the Sun ! 
 
 Ice still on earth — still vapour in the air, 
 
 But Light — the victor Lord — but Light is there I 
 
 T 
 
 !'->! 
 
 r 
 
 
 Hi 
 
 
 m 
 
 r 
 
 'Mi'i\ 
 
 
 ?l 
 
 i 
 
 U: 
 
 u' 
 
 M 
 
 J*- 
 
 i 
 ft. 
 
 i;^ 
 
290 
 
 KING ARTHUR, 
 
 [book IX. 
 
 I 
 
 ; 
 
 4 i' 
 
 ftV 
 
 CXXIII. 
 
 On siege- worn cities, when their war is spent, 
 From the far hill as, gleam on gleam, arise 
 
 The spears of some great aiding armament — 
 Grow the dim splendours, broadening up the skies, 
 
 Till bright and brighter, the sublime array 
 
 Flings o'er the world the banners of the Day. 
 
 C'XXIV. 
 
 Behold them where they kneel ; the starry King, 
 The dwarfs of night, the giants of the sea ; 
 
 Each with the other linked in solemn ring. 
 Too blest for words ! — Man's severed Family, 
 
 All made akin once more beneath those eyes 
 
 Which on the first Man smiled in Paradise. 
 
 .1 I 
 
[book IX. 
 
 nt, 
 se 
 
 the skies, 
 ay- 
 
 King, 
 mily, 
 
 38 
 
 Booh the iTenth, 
 
 \ii 
 
 m m 
 
 ilK 
 
rl 
 
 ARGUMENT. 
 
 I 
 
 ! '! 
 
 Tlie Polar Spring^— the Boreal Lights -and apparition of a double sun — The Rocky Isle 
 — The Bears— The mysterious Shadow from the Crater of the extinct Volcano- -The 
 Bears scent the steps of Man : their movemcntsdescribed— Arthur's approach— The Bears 
 emerge from their coverts — The Shadow takes form and life— The Demon Dwarf der* 
 cribed— His parley with Arthur— The King follows the Dwarf into the interior of the 
 volcanic rock —The Antediluvian Skeletons— The Troll-flends and their tasks— Arthur 
 arrives at the Cave of Lok— The corpses of the armed Oiants—The Valkyrs at their loom 
 — ^The Wars that they weave— The Dwarf addresses Arthur— The King's fear— He ap- 
 proaches the sleeping Fiend, and the curtains close around him — Meanwhile Gawaine and 
 the Norwegians have tracked Arthur's steps on the snow, and arrive at the Isle — Are 
 attacked by the Bears— The noises and eruption from the Volcano— The re-appearance of 
 Arthur— The change in him— Freedom, and its characteristics— Arthur and his band re- 
 new their way along the coast ; ships are seen— How Arthur obtains a bark from the 
 Rugen Chieftain ; and how Gawaine stores it — The Dove now leads homeward — Arthur 
 reaches England ; and, sailing up a river, enters the Mercian territory— He follows the 
 Dove through a forest to the ruins built by the earliest Cimmerians — The wisdom and 
 civilization of the ancestral Druidical races, as compared with their idolatrous successors 
 at the time of the Uoman Conquerors, whose remains alone are left to our ago— Arthur 
 lies down to rest amidst the moonlit ruins-Thc Dove vanishes— the nameless horror 
 that seizes the King. 
 
 li'i 
 
 I 
 
in— The Rocky Isle 
 inct Volcano- -The 
 .proach— The Bears 
 Demon Dwarf der- 
 the interior of the 
 heir tasks— Arthur 
 alkyrs at their loom 
 Ling's fear— He ap- 
 nwhileGawalneand 
 Id at the Isle— Are 
 The re-appearance of 
 ur and his band re- 
 fins a bark from the 
 jhomeward— Arthur 
 >ry— He follows the 
 I— The wisdom and 
 Idolatrous successors 
 to our age— Arthur 
 ;he nameless horror 
 
 Book iTen. 
 
 ^^ I. 
 
 PRING on the Polar Seas ! — not violet-crowned 
 By dewy Hours, nor to caerulean halls 
 Melodeous hymned, yet Light itself around 
 
 Her stately path, sheds starry coronals. 
 Sublime she comes, as when, from Dis set free. 
 Came, through the flash of Jovc, Persephone : 
 
 II. 
 
 She comes — that grand Aurora of the North ! 
 
 By steeds of fire her glorious chariot borne. 
 From Boreal courts the meteors flaming forth, 
 
 Ope heaven on heaven, before the mighty Morn, 
 And round the rebel giants of the Night 
 On earth's last confines bursts the storm of light. 
 
 ii '. ' 
 
 f- 
 
 III. 
 
 Wonder and awe ! lo, where against the sun 
 
 A second sun* his lurid front uprears ! 
 As if the first-born lost Hyperion, 
 
 Hurled down of old, from his Uranian spheres. 
 Rose from the hell-rocks on his writhings piled, 
 And glared defiance on his Titan child. 
 
 * Tho apparition of two re mc.rc suns in the polar finnament is well known. Mr. Ellis 
 saw six— they are most brilliant at day-break —and thoujjh diminished in splendour are 
 still visible even after the appearance of the real sun. 
 
 1:. 
 
 11 
 
294 
 
 KING ARTHUR 
 
 [book X. 
 
 IS, fl 
 
 
 i. 
 
 II ?■ 
 
 IV. 
 
 Now life, the polar life, returns once more, 
 The reindeer roots his mosses from the snows ; 
 
 The whirring sea-gulls shriek along the shore ; 
 Thro* oozing rills the cygnet gleaming goes ; 
 
 And, w^here the ice some happier verdure frees, 
 
 Laugh into light frank-eyed anemones. 
 
 V. 
 
 Out from the seas still solid, frowned a lone 
 Chaos of chasm and precipice and rock. 
 
 There, while the meteors on their revels shone. 
 Growling hoarse glee, in many a grisly flock, 
 
 AVith their huge young, the sea-bears sprawling played 
 
 Near the charred crater some mute Hecla made. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Sullen before that cavern's vast repose. 
 Like the lorn wrecks of a despairing race 
 
 Chased to their last hold by triumphant foes. 
 Darkness and Horror stood. But from the space 
 
 Within the cave, and o'er the ice-ground wan. 
 
 Quivers a shadow vaguely mocking man. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Like man's the Shadow falls, yet falling loses 
 The shape it took, each moment changefuUy ; 
 
 As when the Avind on Runic waves confuses 
 
 The weird boughs tossed from some prophetic tree ; 
 
 Fantastic, goblin-like, and fitful thrown. 
 
 Comes the strange Shadow from the drear Unknown. 
 
[book X. 
 
 )W8; 
 es, 
 
 BOOK X.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 295 
 
 VIII. 
 
 It is not man's — for they, man's savage foes, 
 
 Whose sense ne'er fails them when the scent is blootl, 
 
 Sport in the shadow the Unseen One throws. 
 Nor hush their young to sniff the human food ; 
 
 But, undisturbed as if their home was there. 
 
 Pass to and fro the light-defying lair. 
 
 ■r; '.: 
 
 1 H 
 
 
 1 
 
 me. 
 
 )ck, 
 
 ling played 
 
 lade. 
 
 he space 
 m, 
 
 3S 
 
 illy; 
 
 Ihetic tree ; 
 Fnknown. 
 
 IX. 
 
 So the bears gambolled, so the Shadow played. 
 When sudden halts the uncouth merriment. 
 
 Now man — in truth, draws near ; man's steps invade 
 The men-devourers ! — Snorting to the scent, 
 
 Lo, where they stretch dread necks of shaggy snow. 
 
 Grin with white fangs, and greed the blood to flow ! 
 
 X. 
 
 Grotesquely undulating, moves the flock, 
 Low grumbling as the sluggish ranks divide ; 
 
 Some heave their slow bulk peering up the rock. 
 Some stand erect, and shift from side to side 
 
 The keen quick ear, the red dilating eye. 
 
 And steam the hard air with a hungry sigh. 
 
 XI. 
 
 -as rings 
 
 At length unquiet and amazed- 
 
 On 1;0 their haunt direct, the dauntless stride, 
 With the sharp instinct of all savage things 
 
 That doubt a prey by which they are defied, 
 They send from each to each a troubled stare. 
 And huddle close, suspicious of the snare. 
 
 ]': 
 
 uiir 
 
 
 '■ fi 
 
 U' 
 
 II 
 
 111. 
 
 I i 
 
296 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [dook X. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Then a huge leader, with concerted wile, 
 
 Creeps lumbering on, and, to his guidance slow 
 
 The shagged armies move, in cautious file. 
 Till one by one, in ambush for the foe. 
 
 Drops into chasm and cleft, — and, vanishing, 
 
 With stealthy murther girds the coming King. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 He comes, — the Conqueror in the Halls of Time, 
 Known by his herald in the starry Dove, 
 
 By his imperial tread, and front sublime 
 
 AVith power as tranquil as the lids of Jove, — 
 
 All shapes of death the realms around afford : — 
 
 From Fiends God guard him ! — from all else his sword ! 
 
 XIV. 
 
 For ho, with spring the huts of ice had left 
 And the small People of the world of snows : 
 
 Their food the seal, their camp at night, the cleft. 
 His bold Norwegians follow where he goes ; 
 
 Now in the rear afar, their chief they miss. 
 
 And grudge the danger which they deem a bliss. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Ere yet the meteors from the morning sky 
 Chased large Orion, — in the hour when sleep 
 
 Eeflects its ghost-land stillest on the eye. 
 
 Had stol'n the lonely King ; and o'er the deep 
 
 Sought by the clue the dwarfmen-legends yield. 
 
 And the Dove's wing — the demon-guarded Shield. 
 
[dook X. 
 
 BOOK X.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 297 
 
 slow 
 
 
 rime, 
 
 •d:— 
 
 ;e his sword ! 
 
 OAVS : 
 le cleft, 
 
 is; 
 
 I bliss. 
 
 [leep 
 
 deep 
 lield, 
 Ishield. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 The desert of the desolate is won. 
 
 Still lurks, unseen, the ambush horrible — 
 Nought stirs around beneath the twofold sun 
 
 Save that strange Shadow, where before it fell. 
 Still falling ; — varying, quivering to and fro, 
 From the black cavern on the glaring snow. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Slow the devourers rise, and peer around : 
 Now crag and cliff move dire with savage life, 
 
 And rolling downward, — all the dismal ground 
 Shakes with the roar and bristles with the strife : 
 
 Not unprepared — (when ever are the brave?) 
 
 Stands the firm King, and bares the diamond glaive. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Streams, thro' the meteor fires, the fulgent brand. 
 Lightening along the air, the sea, the rock. 
 
 Bright as the arrow in that heavenly hand 
 
 Which slew the Python. Blinded halt the flock. 
 
 And the great roar, but now so rough and high, 
 
 Sinks into terror wailing timidly. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Yet the fierce instinct and the rabid sting 
 Of famine goad again the checkt array ; 
 
 And close and closer in tumultuous ring, 
 
 Reels on the brute mass crushing towards its prey. 
 
 A dull groan tells where first the falchion sweeps — 
 
 When into shape the cave-born Shadow leaps ! 
 
 iri 
 
 
 I 
 
 iiii:. 
 
 
 n 
 
 u 
 
 1 jj 
 
 lit 
 
 Ml! 
 
 J 
 
298 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book X. 
 
 1 )» 
 
 ■>■ -J 
 
 If ■'^ 
 
 XX. 
 
 Out from the dark it leapt — the awful form ! 
 
 Manlike, but, sure, not human ; on its hair 
 The ice-barbs bristled : like a coming storm 
 
 Its breath smote lifeless every wind in air ; 
 Dread form deformed, as, ere the birth of Light, 
 Some son of Chaos and the Antique Night ! 
 
 XXI. 
 
 At once a dwarf and giant — trunk and limb 
 
 Knit in gnarled strength as by a monstrous chance, 
 
 Never Chimsera more grotesque and grim, 
 Paled -<:Egypt's priesthood with its own romance, 
 
 When, from each dire delirium Fancy knows, 
 
 Some Typhon-type of Powers destroying rose. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 At the dread presence, ice a double cold 
 
 Conceived ; the .aeteors from their dazzling play 
 
 Paused ; and appalled into their azure hold 
 Shrunk back with all their banners ; not a ray 
 
 Biuke o'ei the dead sea and the doleful shore, 
 
 Winter's steel grasp lockt the dumb world once more. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Halted the war — as the wild multitude 
 
 Left the King scatheless, and their leaders slain ; 
 
 And round the giant dwarf the baleful brood 
 Came with low growls of terror, wrath, and pain, 
 
 As children round their father. With a start ^ 
 
 Arthur recoiled — fejvr fell upon his heart, 
 
[book X. 
 
 ir 
 
 
 light, 
 
 b 
 
 )us chance, 
 
 •omance, 
 
 vs, 
 
 osc. 
 
 ing play 
 
 a ray 
 )re, 
 I once more. 
 
 trs slain ; 
 lod 
 
 md pain, 
 
 trt 
 
 BOOK X.] 
 
 KING AllTHUR. 
 
 299 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 And as he gazed, he paled. Tlien spoke aloud 
 The horrent Image. " Child of hateful Day, 
 
 What madness snares thee to the glooms that shroud 
 The realms abandoned to my secret sway ? 
 
 Why on mine air first breatlies the human breath 1 
 
 Hath thy far world no fairer path to Death 1 " 
 
 XXV. 
 
 " All ways to Death, but one to Glory leads. 
 That which alike thro' earth, or air, or wave. 
 
 Bears a bold thought to goals in nobler deeds," 
 Said the pale King. " And this, methinks, the cave 
 
 Which hides the Shield that rocked the sleep of one 
 
 By wliom ev'n Fable shows what deeds were done. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 " I seek the talisman which guards the free. 
 And tread where erst the Sire of freemen trod." * 
 
 " Ho !" laugh'd the dwarf, " Walhalia's child was He ! 
 Man gluts the fiend when he assumes the god." — 
 
 " No god. Deceiver, tho' man's erring creeds 
 
 Make gods of men when godlike are their deeds ; 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 " And if the Only and Eternal One 
 Hath, ere his last and luminous Word Revealed, 
 
 Left some grand Memory on its airy throne, 
 
 Nor smit the nations when to names they kneeled — 
 
 In each false god was typed, since Time began. 
 
 Some truth in Nature or some worth in Man." 
 
 * Tiior'8 viHit to the realms of Hela and Lok forms a prominent incident in the 
 romance of Scandinavian mytholoffy. With the Scandinavian branch of the Teuton 
 family Thor was the favourite deity— and it was natural to that free and valiant race to 
 identify liberty with war. 
 
 I 
 
 111 
 
 11 
 
 
 ; V . 
 
 ■ ' . 'i: 
 
 
 1 
 
 '-' \ \ 
 
 ; 
 
 1 
 
 ' 1 
 
 i , 
 
 
 ;■ 
 
 i 
 
 ■ ij 
 
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 M; 
 
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 300 
 
 KING Aiirnun. 
 
 [book X. 
 
 xxvin. 
 
 The Demon heard ; and, as a moon that shines, 
 Kising behind Arcturus, wan and chill 
 
 O'er Baltic headlands Mack with rigid pines, 
 Makes ghostly night thus lit, more ghostly still — 
 
 So the fiend's mocking smilo but deepened more 
 
 The menacing gloom which the dire aspect wore. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 "Ho !" said the Dwarf, "Thou would'st survive to tell 
 Of trophies wrested from the halls of Lok, 
 
 Yet wherefore singly face the hosts of Hell 1 
 Return, and lead thy comrades to the rock ; 
 
 Ne'er to one man in any mortal field. 
 
 Did the fierce Valkyrs who lead armies yield." 
 
 XXX. 
 
 "War," said the King, "When waged on mortal life 
 By mortal men ; — that dare I with the rest : 
 
 In conflicts awful with no human strife, 
 Mightiest methinks, that soul the loneli'.-st. 
 
 When starry charms from Afrite caves were won, 
 
 No Jndah marched with dauntless Solomon !" 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 Fell fangs the demon gnasht, and o'er the crowd 
 Wild cumbering round his feet, with hungry stare 
 
 Greeding the man, his drooping visage bowed ; 
 
 "Go elsewhere, sons — your prey escapes the snare : 
 
 Yours but the food which flesh to flesh supplies ; 
 
 Here not the mortal but the soul defies." 
 
[OOOK X. 
 
 fiOOlt X.] 
 
 KINO AttTIlVn, 
 
 301 
 
 lies, 
 
 I, 
 
 y still— 
 
 norc 
 
 wore. 
 
 rvivc to tell 
 
 )k, 
 
 11 
 
 ski" 
 
 nortal life 
 lest : 
 
 L'St. 
 
 |e won, 
 I" 
 
 jrowd 
 igry stare 
 ^ed ; 
 
 the snare : 
 
 )Ues ; 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 Then striding to t)ie cavo, ho plunged within ; 
 
 " Follow," he cried : like an imprisoned blast 
 In midnight rock-vaults, the reverberate din, 
 
 Rolled from the rough sides of the rayless Vast ; 
 As goblin echoes, thro* the haunted hollow, 
 'Twixt groan and laughter, chimed hoarse-gibbering "Follow!" 
 
 XXX ni. 
 
 The King recoiling paused irresolute, 
 
 Till thro' the cave the white wing went its way ; 
 
 Then on his breast he signed the cross, and, mute 
 With solemn prayer, ](o left the world of day. 
 
 Thick stood the night, save where the falchion gave 
 
 Its clear sharp glimmer lengthening down the cave. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 Advancing, flashes rushed irregular 
 Like subterranean lightning, forked and rod : 
 
 From warring matter, wandering shot the star 
 Of poisonous gases ; and the tortured bed 
 
 Of the old Volcano showed, in trailing fires, 
 
 Where the numbered serpent dragged its mangled spires. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 Broader and ruddier on the Dove's pale wings 
 Now glowed the lava of the widening spaces ; 
 
 Grinned, from the rock, the jaws of giant things. 
 The lurid skeletons of vanished races, 
 
 They who, perchance ere man himself had birth, 
 
 Ruled the moist slime of uncompleted earth. 
 
 nhil.' 
 
 ► ! • I 
 
 \ . 
 
 'ffl 
 
 
 
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302 
 
 KING ARTHUn. 
 
 [book X. 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
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 I 
 
 ':!: 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 Enormous coucht fanged Iguanodon, 
 To which the monster-lizard of the Nile 
 
 Were prey too small, — whose dismal haunts were on 
 The swamps where now such golden harvests smile 
 
 As had sufficed those myriad hosts to feed 
 
 When all the Orient marched behind the Mede. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 There the foul, earliest reptile spectra lay. 
 Distinct as when the chaos was their home ; 
 
 Half plant, half serpent, some subside away 
 
 Into gnarled roots (now stone) — more hideous some, 
 
 Half bird — half fish — seem struggling yet to spring. 
 
 Shark-like the maw, and dragon-like the wing. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 But, life-like more, from later layers emerge 
 With their fell tusks deep-stricken in the stone, 
 
 Herds, that thro* all the thunders of the surge. 
 Had to the Ark which swept relentless on 
 
 (Denied to them) — knelled the despairing roar 
 
 Of sentenced races time shall know no more. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 Under the limbs of mammoths went the path, 
 Or thro' the arch immense of Dragon jaws, 
 
 And ever on the King — in watchful wrath 
 Gazed the attendant Fiend, with artful pause 
 
 Where dread was dreadliest had the mortal one 
 
 Faltered or quailed, the Fiend his 
 
 prey 
 
 h"/. won, 
 
[book X. 
 
 3 were on 
 /^ests smile 
 
 lede. 
 
 U'^ 
 
 me ; . , 
 
 ay 
 
 lideous some, 
 t to spring, 
 iving. 
 
 ;e 
 
 le stone, 
 
 [urge, 
 
 >n 
 
 roar 
 
 )re. 
 
 [ath, 
 iws, 
 
 )ause 
 
 i\ one 
 \} won, 
 
 BOOK X.] 
 
 KING AUTHUn, 
 
 303 
 
 XL. 
 
 And rent it limb by limb ; but on the Dove 
 Arthur looked steadfast, and the Fiend was foiled. 
 
 Now, as along the skeleton world they move, 
 
 Strange noises jar, and flit strange shadows. Toiled 
 
 The Troll's swart people, in their inmost home 
 
 At work on ruin for the days to come. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 A baleful race, whose anvils forge the flash 
 
 Of iron murder for the limbs of war ; 
 Who ripen hostile embryos, for the crash 
 
 Of earthquakes rolling slow to towers afar ; 
 Or train from Hecla's fount the lurid rills, 
 To cities sleeping under shepherd hills ; 
 
 XLII. 
 
 Or nurse the seeds, thro' patient ages rife 
 With the full harvest of that crowning fire. 
 
 When for the sentenced Three, — Time, Death, and Life, 
 Our globe itself shall be the funeral pyre ; 
 
 And, awed, in orbs remote, some race unknown 
 
 Shall miss one star, whose smile had lit their own. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 Thro' the Phlegraean glare, innumerous eyes. 
 Fierce with the murther-lust, scowl ravening, 
 
 And forms, on which had never looked the skies. 
 Stalk near and nearer, swooping round the King, 
 
 Till from the blazing sword the foul array 
 
 Shrink back, and wolf-like follow on the wayi 
 
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 304 
 
 KING AllTHUR. 
 
 [book X. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 Now thro' waste mines of iron, whose black peaks 
 Frown o'er dull Phlegethons of fire below, 
 
 While, vague as worlds unformed, sulphureous reeks 
 Roll on before them huge and dun, — they go. 
 
 Vanish abrupt the vapours : from the night 
 
 Springs, and spreads rushing, like a flood, the light. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 A mighty cirque with lustre belts the mine ; 
 
 Its walls of iron glittering into steel ; 
 Wall, upon wall reflected, flings the shine 
 
 Of armour : vizorless the Corpses kneel. 
 Their glazed eyes fixed upon a couch where, screened 
 With whii'.pcring curtains, sleeps the Kingly Fiend : 
 
 XLYI. 
 
 Corpses of giants, who perchance had heard 
 The tromps of Tu'.^-'l, and had leapt to strife 
 
 AVhose guilt provoked the Deluge : sepulchred 
 In their world's ruins, still a frown like life 
 
 Hung o'er vast brows, — and spears, like turrets, shone 
 
 In hands whose grasp had crushed the Mastodon. 
 
 XLvir. 
 
 Around the couch, a silent solemn ring. 
 
 They whom the Teuton calls the Valkyrs, sate. 
 
 Shot thro' pale webs their spindles glistening ; 
 Dread tissues woven out of human hate 
 
 For heavenly ends ! — for, there, is spun the woe 
 
 Of every war that earth shall ever know. 
 
 ill 
 
[book X. 
 
 BOOK X.] 
 
 KING ylRTIlUIL 
 
 305 
 
 peaks 
 
 us reeks 
 go. 
 
 [le light. 
 
 , screened 
 \f Fiend : 
 
 irife 
 
 •ed 
 
 ife 
 
 [rets, shone 
 
 lodon. 
 
 sate. 
 
 wo© 
 
 XLVIIT. 
 
 Below their feet a bottomless pit of gore 
 
 Yawned, where each web, when once the woof was done. 
 Was scornful cast. Yet rising evermore 
 
 Out of the surface, wandered airy on 
 Till lost in upper space, pale winged seeds 
 The future heaven-fruit of the hell-born deeds ; 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 For out of every evil born of time, 
 
 God shapes a good for his eternity. 
 Lo where the spindles, weaving crime on crime. 
 
 Form the world-work of Charlemains to be ; — 
 How in that hall of iron lengthen forth 
 The fates that ruin, to rebuild, the North ! 
 
 L. 
 
 Here, one stern Sister, smiling- on the King, 
 Hurries the thread that twines his Nation's doom. 
 
 And, farther down, the whirring spindles sing 
 Around the \» oof which from his Baltic home 
 
 Shall charm the avenging Norman, to control 
 
 The shattered races into one calm whole. 
 
 LI. 
 
 Already here, the hueless lines along. 
 
 Grows the red creed of the Arabian horde ; 
 
 Already here, the armed Chivalric Wrong 
 
 Which made the cross the symbol of the sword. 
 
 Which thy worst idol, Rome, to Jadah gave, 
 
 And worshipped Mars upon the Saviour's grave. 
 U 
 
 :■. ! I 
 
306 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book X. 
 
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 Lll. 
 
 Already the wild Tartar in his tents, 
 Dreamless of thrones ; — and the fierce Visigoth* 
 
 Who, on Columbia's golden armaments, 
 
 Shall loose the hell-hounds, — nurse the age-long growth 
 
 Of Desolation — as the noiseless skein 
 
 Clasps in its web, thy far descendants, Cain ! 
 
 LIII. 
 
 Already, in the hearts of sires remote 
 
 In their rude Isle, the spell ordains the germ 
 
 Of what shall be a Name of wonder, wrought 
 From that fell feast which Glory gives the worm. 
 
 When Rome's dark bird shall shade, with thunder-wings, 
 
 Calm brows that brood the doom of breathless kings, t 
 
 LIV. 
 
 Already, tho' the sad unheeded eyes 
 
 Of Bards alone foresee, and none believe, 
 
 The lightning, hoarded from the farthest skies, 
 Into the mesh the race-destroyers weave. 
 
 When o'er our marts shall graze a stranger's fold. 
 
 And the new Tarshish rot, as rots the old. 
 
 LV. 
 
 Yea, ever there, each spectral hand the birth 
 
 Weaves of a war — until the angel-bla£L, 
 Pealed from the tromp that knells the doom of earth, — 
 
 Shall start the livid legions from their last ; 
 And man, with arm uplifted still to slay, 
 Reel on some Alp that rolls in smoke away ! 
 
 * Visijfoth, poetice for the Spanish Ravagcrs of Mexico ami Peru, 
 t Napoleon. 
 
[book X. 
 
 ''isigoth* 
 ge-long growth 
 
 in 
 
 germ 
 
 ught 
 
 the worm, 
 
 Lhunder-wings, 
 
 ihless kings.t 
 
 ve. 
 
 skies, 
 r's fold, 
 
 rth 
 
 [)m of earth, — 
 (ast ; 
 
 and Veru. 
 
 BOOK X.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 307 
 
 LVI. 
 
 Fierce glared the dwarf upon the silent King, 
 " There, is the prize thy visions would achieve ! 
 
 There, where the hushed inexorable ring 
 Murder the myriads in the webs they weave. 
 
 Behind the curtains of Incarnate War, 
 
 Whose lightest tremour topples thrones afar, — 
 
 LVII. 
 
 " Which ev'n the Valkyrs, with their bloodless hands. 
 Dare not to draw aside, — go, seek the Shield ! 
 
 Yet be what follows known ! — yon kneeling bands 
 Whose camps were Andes, and whose battle-field 
 
 Left plains, now empires, rolling seas of gore. 
 
 Shall liear the clang and leap to life once more. 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 " Roused from their task, revengeful shall arise 
 The never baffled * Choosers of the Slain,' 
 
 The Fiend thy hand shall wake, unclose the eyes 
 That flashed on heavenly hosts their storms again. 
 
 And thy soul wither in the mighty frown 
 
 Before whose night, an earlier sun sunk down : 
 
 LIX. 
 
 " The rocks shall close all path for flight save one. 
 Where now the Troll -fiends wait to rend their prey, 
 
 And each malign and monster skeleton. 
 Re-clothed with life as in the giant day 
 
 When yonder seas were valleys — scent thy gore 
 
 And grin with fangs that gnash for food once more. 
 
 : i 
 
 
 
 
 ;*! 
 
 '^J 
 
 'id 
 
 
 Hi'' 
 
 '• ii;. 
 
308 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book X. 
 
 LX. 
 
 < ' 
 
 ** Ho, dost thou shudder, pale one ? Back and live." 
 Thrice strove the King for speech, and thrice in vain, 
 
 For he was man, and, till our souls survive 
 The instincts born of flesh, shall Horror reign 
 
 In that Unknown beyond the realms of Sense, 
 
 Where the soul's darkness seems the man's defence. 
 
 I '■ 
 
 LXI. 
 
 Yet as when thro* uncertain troublous cloud 
 Breaks the sweet morning star, and from its home 
 
 Smiles lofty peace, so thro* the phantom crowd 
 Of fears — the Eos of the world to come. 
 
 Faith, looked — revealing how earth-nourished are 
 
 The clouds ; and how beyond their reach the star. 
 
 LXII. 
 
 Mute on his knee, amidst the kneeling dead 
 
 He sank ; — the dead the dreaming fiend revered, 
 
 A nd he, the living, God ! Then terror fled, 
 And all the king illumed the front he reared. 
 
 Firm to the couch on which the fiend reposed 
 
 He strode ; — the curtains, murmuring, round him closed. 
 
 LXllI. 
 
 Now while this chanced, without the tortured rock 
 Raged fierce the war between the rival might 
 
 Of beast and man ; the dwarf-king's ravenous flock 
 And Norway's warriors led by Cymri's knight ; 
 
 For by the foot-prints thro' the snows explored, 
 
 On to the rock the bands had tracked their lord. 
 
m 
 
 [book X. 
 
 L and live." 
 
 thrice in vain, 
 
 ^e 
 
 r reign 
 
 lense, 
 
 s defence. 
 
 ud 
 
 m its home 
 
 3rowd 
 
 e, 
 
 ished are 
 
 the star. 
 
 ad 
 revered, 
 
 d, 
 
 eared. 
 
 osed 
 
 nd him closed. 
 
 BOOK X.] 
 
 KING AttTHtm, 
 
 309 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 Repelled, not conquered, back to crag and cave. 
 Sullen and watchful still, the monsters go ; 
 
 And solitude resettles on the wave, 
 But silence not ; around, aloft, alow 
 
 Roar the couched beasts, and, answering from the main. 
 
 Shrieks the shrill gull and booms the dismal crane. 
 
 LXV. 
 
 And now the rock itself, from every tomb 
 
 Of its dead world within, sends voices forth. 
 Sounds direr far, than in its rayless gloom 
 
 Crash on the midnight of the farthest North ; 
 
 From beasts our world hath lost, the strident yell. 
 
 The shout of giants and the laugh of hell. 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 Reels all the isle ; and every rugged steep 
 
 Hurls down an avalanche ;— all the crater cave 
 
 Glows into swarthy red, and fire-showers leap 
 From rended summits, hissing to the wave 
 
 Thro' its hard ice ; or in huge crags, wide-sounding 
 
 Spring where they crash — on rushing and rebounding. 
 
 18 H 
 
 
 
 !f i 
 
 I'M '4 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 ired rock 
 might 
 lous flock 
 
 cnight J 
 
 ored, 
 lord. 
 
 Dizzy and blind, the staggering Northmen fall 
 On earth that rocks beneath them like a bark ; 
 
 Loud and more loud the tumult swells with all 
 The Acheron of the discord. Swift and dark, 
 
 From every cleft, the smoke-clouds burst their way. 
 
 Rush thro' the void, and sweep from heaven the day. 
 
 i 
 
 
 Ik 
 
 Ii| 
 
I 
 
 5 
 
 * 
 
 )i " 
 
 i; r 
 
 J i 
 
 'III 
 
 III 
 
 310 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book X. 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 Smitten beneath tlie pestilential blast 
 
 And the great terror, senseless lay the band, 
 
 Till the arrested life, with throes at last, 
 Gasped back : and holy over sea and land 
 
 Silence and light reposed. They looked above 
 
 And calm> in calmed air, beheld the Dove ! 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 And o'er their prostrate lord was poised the wing' ; 
 
 And when they rushed and reached him, shouting joy, 
 There came no answer from the corpselike king ; 
 
 And when his true knight raised him, heavily 
 Drooped h:«> pale front on Gawaine's faithful breast, 
 And the closed lids seemed leaden in their rest. 
 
 LXX. 
 
 And all his mail was dinted, hewn, and crushed, 
 And the bright falchion dim with foul dark gore ; 
 
 And the strong pulse of the strong hand was hushed ; 
 Like an exhausted storm which whilome bore 
 
 The bolts of Jove, when under lulled skies 
 
 The aspen stirs not to its lingering sighs. 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 And there was solemn change on that fair face, 
 Nor, whatsoe'er the fear or scorn had been, 
 
 Did the past passion leave its haggard trace ; 
 But on the rigid beauty awe was seen, 
 
 As one who on the Gorgon's aspect fell 
 
 Had gazed ; and, freezing, yet survived the ?peii. 
 
[book X. 
 
 d 
 
 30V0 
 
 e wing ; 
 
 , shouting joy, 
 king; 
 javily 
 il breast, 
 rest. 
 
 ished, 
 irk gore ; 
 as hushed ; 
 bore 
 
 ace, 
 
 "peii. 
 
 nooK X.] 
 
 KING ARTIlUn. 
 
 311 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 Not by tlio chasm in which he left the day, 
 
 But through a new made gorge the fires had cleft. 
 
 As if with fires themselves were forced the way. 
 Had rushed the King ; — and sense and sinew left 
 
 The form that struggled till the strife was o'er ; 
 
 So faints the swimmer when he gains the shore. 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 But on his arm was clasped the wondrous prize, 
 Dimmed, tarnished, grimed, and black with gore and smoke, 
 
 Still the pure metal, thro' each foul disguise, 
 Like starlight scattered on dark waters, broke ; 
 
 Thro' gore, thro' smoke it shone — the silver shield, 
 
 Clear as dawns Freedom from her battle-field. 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 Days followed days, ere from that speechless trance 
 
 (Borne to green inlets, isled amid the snows, 
 Where led the Dove), the king's reviving glance 
 
 Looked languid round on watchful, joyful brov/s ; 
 Ev'n while he slept, new flowers the e * had given. 
 And on his heart brooded the bird of heaven. 
 
 LXS V. 
 
 But ne'er, as voice and strength and sense returned. 
 To his good knight the strife that won the Shield 
 
 Did Arthur tell ; deep in his soul inumed, — 
 As in the grave its secret, — nor revealed 
 
 To mortal ear — that mystery which for ever 
 
 Flowed thro' his thought, as thro' the cave a river ; 
 
 II 
 
 ( ,< 
 
 
 n, 
 
 1 t. 
 
 k 
 
 
312 
 
 id 
 
 i 
 
 « , 
 
 , f"' 
 
 ,J 
 
 KINO AnTIIUR. 
 
 [book X. 
 
 LXXVi. 
 
 Whether to Lovo, how true soe'er its faith, 
 Whether to Wisdom, whatsoe'er its skill. 
 
 Till his last hour, the struggle and the scathe 
 Remained unuttered and unutterable ; 
 
 But aye, in solitude, in crowds, in strife. 
 
 In joy, that memory lived within his life : 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 It made not sadness, tho' the calm grave smile 
 Never regained the lustre youth had given, — 
 
 But as the shadow of some holy pile 
 Consecrates ground on which it falls, to heaven, 
 
 That gloom the grandeur of religion wore, 
 
 And seemed to hallow all it rested o'er. 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 Such Freedom is, Slave that would be free ! 
 
 Never her real struggles into life 
 Hath History told. As it hath been shall be 
 
 The Apocalypse of Nations ; nursed in strife 
 Not with the present, nor with living foes, 
 But where the centuries shroud their long repose. 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 Out from the graves of earth's primaeval bones, 
 The shield of empire, patient Force must win : 
 
 What made the Briton free ? not crashing thrones 
 Nor parchment laws ; the charter must begin 
 
 In Scythian tents, the steel of Nomad spears ; 
 
 To date the freedom, count three thousand years ! 
 
 U\. 
 
[book X. 
 
 gin 
 
 ears ! 
 
 BOOK X.] 
 
 KINO AllTHUn. 
 
 313 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 Neither is Freedom, mirth. Be free, O slave, 
 And dance no more beneath the lazy pahn. 
 
 Freedom's mild brow with noble care is grave, 
 Her bliss is solemn as her strength is calm ; 
 
 And earnest thought from childlike sport debars 
 
 Men who have learned to look upon the stars. 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 Now as the King revived, along the seas 
 
 Flowed back, enlarged to life, the lapsing waters, 
 
 Kissed from their slumber, by the loving breeze, 
 Glide, in light dance, the Ocean's silver daughters — 
 
 And blithe and hopeful, o'er the sunny strands, 
 
 Listing the long-lost billow, rove the bands. 
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 At length, sight of joy ! — the gleam of sails 
 Bursts on the solitude ! more near and near 
 
 Come the white playmates of the buxom gales. — 
 The whistling cords, the sounds of man, they hear. 
 
 Shout answers shout ; — light sparkles round the oar — 
 
 And from the barks the boat skims on to shore. 
 
 LXXXIII. 
 
 It was a race from Eugen's friendly soil, 
 Leagued by old ties with Cymri's land and King, 
 
 Who, with the spring-time, to their wonted spoil 
 Of seals and furs had spread the canvas wing 
 
 To bournes their fathers never yet had known ; — 
 
 And found amazed, hearts bolder than their own. 
 
 ;^ i 
 
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11 
 
 314 
 
 KING AnTiiun. 
 
 [book X. 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 Soon to the barks tlie Cymrians and their bands 
 Are borne : Bright-haired, above the gazing crews, 
 
 Lone on the loftiest deck, the leader stands, 
 To whom the King, his rank made known, renews 
 
 All that his tale of mortal hope and fear 
 
 Vouchsafes from truth to thrill a mortal's ear ; 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 And from the barks whose sails the chief obey. 
 Craves one to waft where yet the fates may guide.- 
 
 With rugged wonder in his large survey. 
 The son of ^gir* that calm aspect eyed, 
 
 And seemed in awe, as of a god, to scan 
 
 Kim who so moved his homage, yet was man. 
 
 LXXXVI. 
 
 Smoothing his voice, rough with accustomed swell 
 Above the storms, and the wild roar of war. 
 
 The Northman answered, "Skalds in winter tell 
 Of the dire dwarf who guards the Shield of Thor, 
 
 For one whose race, with Odin's blent, shall be, 
 
 Lords of the only realm which suits the Free, 
 
 LXXXVII. 
 
 "Ocean ! — I greet thee, and this strong right hand 
 Place in thine own to pledge myself thy man. 
 
 Choose as thou wilt for thee and for thy band, 
 Amongst the sea-steeds in the stalls of Ran. 
 
 Need'st thou our arms against the Saxon foe ? 
 
 Our flag shall fly where'er thy trumpets blow !" 
 
 * ^gir, the God of the Ocean, the Scandinavian Neptune. 
 
 \M 
 
[book X. 
 
 nds 
 
 ig crews, 
 
 , renews 
 
 f; 
 
 ey, 
 
 ly guide.- 
 
 DOOK X.] 
 
 KINO authuu. 
 
 315 
 
 11. 
 
 Lxxxviir. 
 
 " Men to be free must free themselves," the King 
 Replied, proud-smiling. " Every fatherland 
 
 Spurns tVoni its breast the recreant sons that cling 
 For hope, to standards winds not thcir's have fainied. 
 
 Thankful thro' thee our foe we reach ; — and then 
 
 Cymri hath steel eno' for Cymrian men !" 
 
 LXXXIX. 
 
 While these converse, Sir Gawaine, with his hound 
 Lured by a fragrant and delightsome smell 
 
 From roasts — not meant for Freya, — makes his round, 
 Shakes hands with all, iiud hopes their wives are well. 
 
 From spit to spit with easy grace he walks. 
 
 And chines astounded vanish while he talks. 
 
 
 
 } 
 
 iii>' 
 
 \\ 
 
 swell 
 
 iir 
 
 ell 
 
 of Thor, 
 3e, 
 
 hand 
 lan. 
 
 1, 
 1. 
 
 !" 
 
 ne. 
 
 XC. 
 
 At earliest morn the bark to bear the King, 
 
 His sage discernment delicately stores. 
 Rejects the blubber and disdains the ling 
 
 For hams of rein-deers and for heads of boars, 
 Connives at seal, to satisfy his men, 
 But childless leaves each loud-lamenting hen. 
 
 xci. 
 
 And now the bark the Cymrian prince ascends. 
 The large oars chiming to the chaunting crew, 
 
 (His leal Norwegian band) the new-found friends 
 From brazen trumpets blare their loud adieu. 
 
 Forth bounds the ship, and Gawaine, while it quickens, 
 
 Tlie wind propitiates with three virgin chickens. 
 
 k 
 
 I'ii 
 
 4 
 
 
 W' 
 
! I 
 
 31C 
 
 KING AIlTRUIi, 
 
 ! ': 
 
 S' 'i I 
 
 \ 
 
 i f; 
 
 ' 'i 
 
 [book X. 
 
 XCII. 
 
 Led by the Dove, more brightly day by day, 
 
 The vernal azure deepens in the sky ; 
 Far from the Polar threshold smiles the way — 
 
 And lo, white Albion shimmers on the eye, 
 iTurse of all nations, who to breasts severe 
 Takes the rude children, the oalm men to rear. 
 
 XCIII. 
 
 Doubt and amaze with joy perplex the king, 
 Not yet the task achieved, the mission done, 
 
 Why homeward steers the angel pilot's wing ? 
 Of the three labours rcits the crowning one ; 
 
 Unreached the Gates at which he shall behold 
 
 And win — the Child-guide with the locks of gold. 
 
 xciv. 
 
 Yet still the Dove cleaves homeward thro' the air ; 
 
 Glides o'er the entranro of an inland stream ; 
 And rests at last on bowers of foliage ; where 
 
 Thick forests close their ramparts on the beam. 
 And clasp with dipping boughs a grassy creek. 
 Whose marge slopes level with the brazen beak. 
 
 xcv. 
 
 Around his neck the shield the Adventurer slung. 
 And girt the enchanted sword. Then, kneeling, said 
 
 The young Ulysses of the golden tongue, 
 
 " Not now to phantom foes the dove hath led ; 
 
 For, if I err not, this a Mercian haven. 
 
 And from the dove peeps forth at last the raven ! 
 
[book X. 
 
 BOOK X.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 317 
 
 • I* 
 
 
 \m 
 
 p. 
 
 
 gold. 
 
 air ; 
 
 jam, 
 
 ,k. 
 
 ling, said 
 ed j 
 ?n! 
 
 XCVI. 
 
 " Not lone, nor reckless, in thesa glooms profound, 
 Tempt the sure ambush of some Saxon host ; 
 
 If out of sight, at least in reach of sound, 
 Let our stout Northmen follow up the coast ; 
 
 Then if thou wilt, from each suspicious tree 
 
 Shake laurels down, but share them, Sire, with mo ?" 
 
 xcvir. 
 
 " Nay," answered Arthur, "ever, as before, 
 Alone the Pilgrim to his bourne must go ; 
 
 But range the men concealed along the shore ; 
 Set watch, from these green turrets, for the foe ; 
 
 Moored to the marge where broadest hangs the bough, 
 
 Hide from the sun the glitter of the prow ; — 
 
 XCVIII. 
 
 " And so farewell !" He said ; to land he leapt ; 
 
 And, with dull murmur from its verdant waves, 
 O'er his high crest die billowy forest swept. 
 
 As tow'rds some fitful light the swimmer cleaves 
 His stalwart way, — so thro* the woven shades 
 Where the pale wing now glimmers and now fades, 
 
 xoix. 
 
 With strong hand parting the tough branches, goes 
 Hour after hou.' the King ; till light at last 
 
 From skies long hid, wide silvering, interflows 
 
 Thro* opening glades ; — the length of gloom is past. 
 
 And the dark pines receding, stand around 
 
 A silent hill with antique ruins crowned. 
 
 Ml 
 ! ■'Ml'? 
 
 1^ 
 
 i, ■■ 
 
 ifii 
 
 li 
 
 
 J 
 
 f;'* 
 
 ?t 
 
 
 if- 
 
 
 t 
 
,5 f 
 
 318 
 
 KING AllTHUE. 
 
 [book X. 
 
 c. 
 
 Day had long closed ; and, from the mournful deeps 
 Of old volcanoes spent, the livid moon 
 
 Which thro' the life of planets lifeless creeps 
 Her ghostly way, deaf to the choral tune 
 
 Of spheres rejoicing, on those ruins old 
 
 Looked down, herself a ruin, — ^liushed and cold. 
 
 CI. 
 
 Mutely the granite wrecks the king surveyed, 
 And knew the work of hands Cimmerian, 
 
 What time in starry robes, and awe, arrayed, 
 Grey Druids spoke the oracles of man — 
 
 Solving high riddles to Chaldaean Mage, 
 
 Or the young wonder of the Samian Sage. 
 
 ? 
 
 1 , 
 
 CII. 
 
 A date remounting far beyond the day 
 When Roman legions met the scythed cars, 
 
 When purer fonts sublime had lapsed away 
 Thfo' the deep rents of unrecorded wars. 
 
 And bloodstained altars cursed the mountain sod, 
 
 Where* the first faith had hail'd the only God : 
 
 cm. 
 
 For all now left us of the parent Celt, 
 
 Is of that later and corrupter time : — 
 Not in rude domeless fanes those Fathers knelt. 
 
 Who lured the Brahman from h's burning clime. 
 Who charmed lost science from each lone abyss, 
 And winged the shaft of Scythian Abaris.t 
 
 * See Note in Appendix. 
 
 t The arrow of Abaris (which bore him where he pleased) is supposed by some to have 
 been the loadstone. And Abaris himself has been, by ingenious speculators, identified 
 with a Druid philosopher. 
 
[book X. 
 
 BOOK X.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 319 
 
 
 sod, 
 )d: 
 
 CIV. 
 
 Yea, tlie grand sires of our primteval race 
 Saw angel-tracks the earlier earth upon. 
 
 And as a rising sun, the morning face 
 
 Of Truth more near the flushed horizon shone ; 
 
 Filling ev'n clouds with many a golden light. 
 
 Lost when the orb is at the noonday height. 
 
 cv. 
 
 Thro' the large ruins, now no more, the last 
 Pel chance on earth of those diviner sires, 
 
 With noiseless step the iono descendant past ; 
 Not there where seen Bal-huan's* amber pyres ; 
 
 No circling shafts with barbarous fragments strewn. 
 
 Spoke creeds of carnage to the spectral moon. 
 
 cvi. 
 
 Bnt art, vast, simple, and sublime, was there 
 Ev'n in its mournful wrecks, — such art forgone 
 
 As the first Builders, when their grand despair 
 Left Shinar's tower and city half undone. 
 
 Taught where they wandered o'er the newborn world. 
 
 Column, and vault, and roof, in ruin hurled, 
 
 CVII. 
 
 Still spoke of hands that founded Babylon. 
 
 So in the wrecks, the Lord of young Romance 
 By fallen pillars laid him musing down. 
 
 More large; and large the moving shades advance, 
 Blending in one dim silence, sad and wan, 
 The past, the present, ruin and the man. 
 
 * nai auan, the Sun. 
 
 
 '< i 
 
 iril 
 
 
 Bd by some to have 
 julators, identified 
 
 Hii, 
 
> I 
 
 320 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book X. 
 
 CVIII. 
 
 Now, o'er his lids life's gentlest influence stole, 
 Life's gentlest influence yet the likest death ! 
 
 Prove not our dreams how little needs the soul 
 Light from the sense, or being from the breath 1 
 
 Let but the world an instant fade from vie v, 
 
 And of itself the soul creates a new. 
 
 cix. 
 
 H 
 
 Still thro' the hazy mists of stealing sleep, 
 
 The adventurer's eyes explore the guardian wing, 
 
 There, where it broods upon the moss-grown heap, 
 With plumes that all the stars are silvering. 
 
 Slow close the lids — reopening with a start 
 
 As shoots a nameless terror thro' his heart : 
 
 ex. 
 
 That strange wild awe which haunted Childhood thrills, 
 When waking at the dead of Dark, alone ; 
 
 A sense of sudden solitude which chills 
 
 The blood ; — a shrinking as from shapes unknown ; 
 
 An instinct both of some protection fled. 
 
 And of the coming of some ghastly dread. 
 
 CXI. 
 
 He looked, and lo, the dove was seen no more. 
 Lone lay the lifeless wrecks beneath the moon, 
 
 And the one loss gave all that seemed before 
 Desolate, — twofold desolation ! 
 
 How slight a thing, whose love our trust hast been, 
 
 Alters the world, when it no more is seen ! 
 
|i phi 
 
 [book X. 
 
 BOOK X.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 321 
 
 CXII. 
 
 i! 
 ul 
 eath? 
 
 I wing, 
 heap, 
 
 lood thrills, 
 
 iknown ; 
 
 He stiove to speak, but voice was gone from him. 
 
 As in thai; loss, new might the terror took. 
 His veins congealed ; and, interfused and dim 
 
 Shadow of moonlight swam before his look ; 
 Bristled his hair ; and all the strong dismay 
 Seized, as an eagle when it grasps its prey. 
 
 CXIII. 
 
 Senses and soul confused, and jarred, and blent. 
 Lay crushed beneath the intolerable Power ; 
 
 Then over all, one flash, in lightning, rent 
 
 The veil between the Immortal and the Hour ; 
 
 Life heard the voice of unembodied breath, 
 
 And Sleep stood trembling face to face in Death. 
 
 Ml' 
 
 r 
 
 «... 
 
 11 
 
 I ' 
 
 
 
 jl -1 
 
 e. 
 
 )on, 
 
 been. 
 
 I 
 
 
 I ' 
 
!l , f 
 
 Booh the Eleventh 
 
 'S*. 
 
 m 
 
 
 
 li 
 
 i'l 
 

 
 iJiai 
 
 ARGUMENT. 
 
 The Siege of Carduel— Tlie preparations of tlie Saxon host for tlie final assault on the 
 City, under cover of the approaching night — The state of Carduel— Discord— Despon- 
 dence — Famine — The apparent impossibility to r. Ust the coming enemy— Dialogue 
 betveen Caradoc and Merlin— Caradoc hears his sentence, ant' <s resigned -He uuHtringa 
 liis harp i dc?<^eu»is into the town— The Progress of Song ; in its effects upon tho mul- 
 titude— Cradoc'saddrf 43 to th»j people he has roused, and the rush to the Coirv.cil Hail- 
 Meanwhile the Saxons rjaci) the walls— The burst of the Cymrians— The Saxons retire 
 into the plain between the Camp and the City, and ere take their stand— The battle 
 described— The single combat between Lancelot and daroKI— Crida leads on his reserve ; 
 the Cymrians talie ularm and waver — The prediction 'nvented by the noble devotion of 
 Caradoc— His fate— The enthusiasm of the Cyniriima and he retreat of the ene»r.> to 
 their Camp— The first entrance of a Happy Soul into Heaven— The Ohost that appears 
 to Arthur, and leads him through the Cimmerian tomb to the Realm of Death— The 
 sense of time am jpace are annihilated— Death, the Phantasmal Every where— Its brevity 
 and nothingness— The condition of tioul is life, whether hero or hereafter— Fate and 
 Nature identical — Arthur accosted by his Guardian Angel— After the address of that 
 Angel, .' 1 thur lose .« his former fear both of the realm and the Phantom — He addresses 
 the Ohost, which vanishes without reply 10 his question —The last boon — The destined 
 Soother — Arthxir recovering »s froni a trance, sees the Maiden of the Tomb— Her 
 description— The Dove is behdld r.o more — Stiange resemblance between the Maiden 
 and the Dove — Arthur is led 1.0 his Ship, and sails at once for Carduel — He arrives on the 
 Cymrinn territory, and lands with Qawaine and the Maiden near Carduel, amidst the 
 ruins of a hamlet devastated by the Saxons — He seeks a convent, of which only one 
 tower, built by the Romans, remains— From the hill top ho surveys the waVis of Cardue] 
 and the Saxon encampment— The api>earance of the holy Abbess, who recognises the 
 king, and conducts him and his companious to the subterranean grottoes built by the 
 Romans for a summer retreat— He leaves the Maiden to the cai'e of the Abbess, and 
 concerts with Qawaine the scheme for attack on the Saxon?- The Virgii is conducted to 
 the cell of the Abbess— Her thoughts and recollections, waich explain her history— Her 
 resolution — She attempts to escape — Meets the Ji. ul.es?, who hangs the Cro-d round her 
 neck, and blesses her— She depoi-ts to the Saxon Camp. 
 
! flnal assault on the 
 — Discord— Despon- 
 g enemy— Dialogue 
 gnod -He uustringa 
 tfects upon the mul- 
 the Coi'.'.icil Hall— 
 i~The Saxons retire 
 r stand— The battle 
 eads on his reserve ; 
 \\e noble devotioti of 
 eat of the enerr.^ to 
 ! Ghost that appears 
 jalni of Death— The 
 ywhere— Its brevity 
 hereafter —Fate and 
 the address of that 
 ntom — He addresses 
 boon— The destined 
 of the Tomb— Her 
 letween the Maiden 
 — He arrives on the 
 Carduel, amidst the 
 of which only one 
 he wa'is of Carduei 
 who recognises the 
 jrottoes ^uilt by the 
 of the Abbess, and 
 irgii Is conducted to 
 ill h:r history— Her 
 the Cro.^ci round her 
 
 ..;i| 
 
 * <^ 
 
 Booh Eleuen. 
 
 I. 
 
 ING CRIDA'S hosts are storming Carduel ! 
 
 From vale to mount one world of armour sh ines, 
 Round castled piles, for which the forest fell, 
 
 Spreads the white war-town of the Teuton lines ; 
 To countless cht,rions, countless standards swell ; 
 ■^ King Crida's hosts are storming Carduel ! 
 
 n. 
 
 There, all its floods the Saxon deluge pours ; 
 
 All the fierce tribes ; from tliose whose fathers first 
 With their red seaxes from the southward shores, 
 
 Carved realms for Hengist, — to the bands that burst 
 Along the Humber, on the idle wall 
 Rome buiJt for manhood rotted by her thrall. 
 
 III. 
 
 There, wild allies from many a kindred race. 
 In Cymrian landi=: hail Teuton thrones to be : 
 
 Dark Jutland wails her absent populace, — 
 
 And large-limbed sons, his waves no more shall see, 
 
 Leave Danube desolate : afar they roam. 
 
 Where halts the Raven there to find a home. 
 
 m 
 
 1 r. 
 
320 
 
 KING ARTHUIL 
 
 [book XI. 
 
 
 It 
 
 IV. 
 
 Within the inmost fort the pine trees made, 
 The hardy women kneel to warrior gods. 
 
 For where the Saxon armaments invade, 
 All life abandons their resigned abodes. 
 
 All that they prize the tents they pitch contain ; 
 
 And each new march is formed a new domain. 
 
 To the stern gods the fair-liiiired women knee!, 
 As slow to rest the red sun glides along ; 
 
 And near and far, hammers, and clanking steel, 
 Neighs from impatient barbs, and runic song 
 
 Muttered o'er mystic fires by vizard priests, 
 
 Invite the Valkyrs to the raven feasts. 
 
 VI. 
 
 For after nine long moons of siege and storm, 
 Thy hold, Pendragon, trembles to its fall ! 
 
 Loftier the Roman tower uprears its fGini, 
 
 From the crushed bastion and the shattered wall. 
 
 And but till night those iron floods delay 
 
 Their rush of thunder : — Blood-red sinks the day. 
 
 VII. 
 
 ^Oeath halts to strike, nnd swift the moment flies : 
 AVithin the walls, (than all without more fell,) 
 
 Discord with Babel tongues confounds the wise. 
 And spectral Panic, like a form of hell 
 
 Chased by a Fury, fleets, — or, palsied, stands 
 
 Dull-eyed Despondence, wringing nerveless hands. 
 
[book xr. 
 
 tain ; 
 ain. 
 
 BOOK XI.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR, 
 
 327 
 
 VIIT. 
 
 And Pride, that evil angel of the Celt, 
 
 Whispers to all, * 'tis servile to obey,' 
 Kobs ordered Union of its starry belt. 
 
 Rends chief from chief and tribe from tribe away, 
 And leaves the children wrangling for command, 
 Round the wild death-throes of the Father-land. 
 
 !ii 
 
 I'i 
 
 IX. 
 
 [leel, 
 
 steel, 
 
 song 
 
 In breadless marts, the ill-persuading fiend 
 
 Famine, stalks maddening with her wolfish stare ; 
 
 And hearts, on whoso stout anchors Faith had leaned, 
 Bound at her look to treason from despair. 
 
 Shouting, " Why shrink we from the Saxon's thrall ] 
 
 Is slavery worse than Famine smiting all V* 
 
 n, 
 
 ! 
 
 cd wall, 
 le day. 
 
 ; flies : 
 fell,) 
 wise, 
 
 as 
 
 hands. 
 
 X. 
 
 '1..US, in the absence of the sunlike king, 
 
 All phantoms stalk abroad ; dissolve and droop 
 
 Light and the life of nations — while the wing 
 Of carnage halts but for its rushing swoop. 
 
 Some moan, some rave, some laze the hours awa^ ;- 
 
 And down from Carduel blood red sunk the day ! 
 
 XI. 
 
 Leaning against a broken parapet 
 
 Alone with Thought, mused Caradoc the Bard, 
 When a voice smote him, and he turned and met 
 
 A gaze prophetic in its sad regard. 
 Beside him, solemn with his hundred years, 
 Stood the arch hierarch of the Cymrian seers. 
 
 ■J . 
 
 1 
 
 i 
 
 ■■HA 
 
 ;| 
 
 r 
 
 
I( 
 
 I 
 
 
 M 
 
 328 
 
 KINO ARTIimi 
 
 [book XI. 
 
 XII. 
 
 " Dost thou rcrricmber," said tho Sago, " that hour 
 When, seeking signs to Glory's distant way, 
 
 Thou heard'st tho night-bird in her leafy bower, 
 Singing sweet death-chaunts to lier shining prey, 
 
 While thy young poet-heart, with ravished breath, 
 
 Hung on the music, nor divined tho breath ?"* 
 
 XIII. 
 
 "Ay," the bard answcr'd, "and cv'n now, methought, 
 I heard again the ambrosial melody !" 
 
 " So," sigh'd the Prophet, "to the bard, unsought. 
 Come the far whispers of Futurity ! 
 
 Like his own harp, his soul a wind can thrill, 
 
 And the chord murmur, tho* the hand be still. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 " Wilt thou for ever, even from the tomb. 
 Live, yet a music, in the hearts of all ; 
 
 Arise and save thy country from its doom ; 
 Arise, Immortal, at the angel's call ! 
 
 The hour shall give thee all thy life implored. 
 
 And make the lyre more glorious thr.n the sword. 
 
 XV. 
 
 " In vain, thro' yon dull stupour of despair, 
 Sound Geraint's tromp and Owaine's battle-cry ; 
 
 In vain where yon rude clamour storms the air. 
 The Council Chiefs stem mad'ning mutiny ; 
 
 From Trystan's mail the lion heart is gone. 
 
 And on the breach stands Lancelot alone ! 
 
 * See Book ii., pp. 41-42, stanzas xxiii.—xxvi. 
 
[book XI. 
 
 BOOK XI.] 
 
 KING AUTHUU. 
 
 329 
 
 XVI. 
 
 it hour 
 
 wer, 
 ig prey, 
 breatli, 
 
 lethought, 
 iought, 
 
 il, 
 ill. 
 
 »s; 
 
 kvorcl. 
 
 e-cry ; 
 air, 
 
 " Drivelling the wise, and impotent the stronj 
 Fast into night the life of Freedom dies ; 
 
 Awake Light-Bringcr, wake bright soul of song, 
 Kindler, reviver, re-creator, rise ! 
 
 Crown thy great mission with thy parting breath, 
 
 And teach to hosts the Bard's disdain of death !" 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Thrilled at that voice the soul of Caradoc ; 
 
 He heard, and knew his glory and his doom. 
 As when in summer's noon the lightning shock 
 
 Smites some ftiir elm in all its pomp and bloom. 
 Mid whose green boughs each vernal breeze had played, 
 And air's sweet race melodious homes had made ; 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 So that young life bowed sad beneath the stroke 
 That seared the fresh and stilled the musical, 
 
 Yet on the sadness thought sublimely broke ; 
 Holy the tree on which the bolt doth fall ! 
 
 Wild flowers shall spring the sacred roots around. 
 
 And nightly fairies tread the haunted ground ; 
 
 XIX. 
 
 There, ago by age, sIipU Youth with musing brow, 
 Hear Legend murmuring of the days of yore ; 
 
 There, virgin Love more lasting deem the vow 
 Breathed in the shade of branches green no more ; 
 
 And kind Religion keep the grand decay 
 
 Still on the earth while forests pass away. 
 
 i 5 hi 
 
330 
 
 KING ARTIIUll 
 
 [book XI. 
 
 XX. 
 
 " So be it, voice from Heaven," the Bard replied, 
 "Some grateful teais may yet embalm my name, 
 
 Ever for human love my youth hath sighed. 
 And human love's divinest form is fame. 
 
 Is the dream erring ] shall the song remain 1 
 
 Say, can one poet ever live in vain % " 
 
 ' i 
 
 ' 
 
 XXI. 
 
 As the warm south on some unfathomed soa. 
 Along the Magian's soul, the awful rest 
 
 Stirred with the soft emotion : tenderly 
 
 He laid his hand upon the brows he blessed. 
 
 And said, " Complete beneath a brighter sun 
 
 The bear*^iful life v/hich here was but begun. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 "Joyous and light, and fetterless thro' all 
 The blissful, infinite, empyreal space, 
 
 If then thy spirit stoopeth to recall 
 The ray it shed upon the human race. 
 
 See where the ray had kindled from the dearth, 
 
 ijeeds that shall glad the garners of the earth ! 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 " Never true Poet lived and sung in vain : 
 Lost if his name, and withered if his wreath. 
 
 The thoughts he woke must evermore remain 
 Fused in our light and blended with our breath ; 
 
 All life more noble, and all earth more fair. 
 
 Because that soul refined man's common air ! " * 
 
 * Perhaps it is in this sense that Taliessin speaks in his mystical poem, called 
 " Taliessin's History," still extant : 
 
 *• I have heen an instructor 
 To the whole universe. 
 I shall remain till the day of doom 
 On the face of the earth." 
 
[book XI. 
 
 replied, 
 y name, 
 
 sed, 
 
 in 
 
 n. 
 
 irth, 
 h! 
 
 )ath, 
 in 
 breath ; 
 
 rstical poem, called 
 
 BOOK XI.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 331 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Then rose the Bard, and smilingly unstrung 
 His harp of ivory sheen, from shoulders broad. 
 
 Kissing the hand that doomed his life, he sprung 
 Light from the shattered wall,— and swiftly strode 
 
 Where, herdlike huddled in the central space. 
 
 Drooped, in dull pause, the cowering populace. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 There, in the midst he stood ! The heavens were pale 
 With the first stars, unseen amidst the glare 
 
 Cast from large pine-brands on the sullen mail 
 Of listless legions, and the streaming hair 
 
 Of womQn, wailing for the absent dead, 
 
 Or bowed o'er infant lips that moaned for bread. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 From out the illumed cathedral hollowly 
 
 Swelled, like a dirge, the hymn ; and thro' the throng 
 Whose looks had lost all commerce with the sky. 
 
 With lifted rood the slow monks swept along, 
 And vanished hopeless : From, those wrecks of man 
 Fled ev'n Religion : — Then the Bard began. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 Slow, pitying, soft it glides, the liquid lay. 
 Sad with the burthen of the Singer's soul ; 
 
 Into the heart it coiled its lulling way ; 
 Wave upon wave the golden river stole ; 
 
 Hushed to his feet forgetful Famine crept, 
 
 And Woe, reviving, veiled the eyes that wept. 
 
 
 ,1 
 
 s 
 
 4 
 
 \m 
 
 (is 
 
 •i 
 
 111 
 
 m 
 
 \v 
 
 > ?, 
 i 
 
t' I 
 
 n 
 
 
 332 
 
 KING ARTIWR. 
 
 [book xr. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 Then stern, and harsh, clashed the ascending strain, 
 
 Telling of ills more dismal yet in store ; 
 Rough with the iron of the grinding chain, 
 
 Dire with the curse of slavery evermore ; 
 Wild shrieks from lips beloved pale warriors hear, 
 Her child's last death-groan rends the mother's ea'^ ^ 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Then trembling hands instinctive griped the swords ; 
 
 And men unquiet sought each other's eyes ; 
 Loud into pomp sonorous swell the chords, 
 
 Like linked legions march the melodies ; 
 Till the full rapture swept the Bard along, 
 And o'er the listeners rushed the storm of song : 
 
 XXX. 
 
 And the Dead spoke ; From cairns and kingly graves 
 The Heroes called ; — and Saints from earliest shrines ; 
 
 And the Land spoke ! — Mellifluous river-waves ; 
 Dim forests awful with the roar of pines ; 
 
 Mysterious caves from legend-haunted deeps ; 
 
 And torrents flashing from untrodden steeps ; — 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 The Land of Freedom called upon the Free ! 
 
 All Nature spoke ; the clarions of the wind ; 
 The organ swell of the majestic sea ; 
 
 The choral stars ; the Universal Mind 
 Spoke, like the voice from which the world began, 
 " No chain for Nature and the Soul of Man ! " 
 
[book XI. 
 
 BOOK XI.] 
 
 KING APTHUR. 
 
 333 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 g strain, 
 
 s hear, 
 er's ea'^ 
 
 Then loud thro' all, as if Mankind's reply. 
 
 Burst from the Bard the Cymrian battle hymn ! 
 
 That song which swelled the anthems of the Sky, 
 The Alleluia of the Seraphim r 
 
 When Saints led on the Children of the Lord, 
 
 And smote the Heathen with the Angel's sword.* 
 
 ^ i: 
 
 :?-i 
 i 
 
 3 swords ; 
 
 jong : 
 
 ;ly graves 
 iest shrines ; 
 
 res 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 As leaps the warfire on the beacon hills. 
 Leapt in each heart the lofty flame divine ; 
 
 As into sunlight flash the molten rills, 
 
 Flasht the glad claymores, lightening line on line ; 
 
 From cloud to cloud as thunder speeds along, 
 
 From rank to rank — rushed forth the choral song. — 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 Woman and child — all caught the fire of men, 
 
 To its own heaven that Alleluia rang. 
 Life to the spectres had returned agen ; 
 
 And from the «^rave an armed Nation sprang ! 
 Then spoke the Bard, — each crest its plumage bowed. 
 As the large voice went lenffthening thro' the crowd. 
 
 t \ 
 
 i ■ 
 
 ': \ « 
 
 le! 
 d; 
 
 3egan, 
 
 * The Bishops, Oernianus and Lupus, having baptized the Britons in the River Alyn, 
 led them against the Picts and Saxo is, to the cry of '* Allehiia." The cry itself, uttered 
 with all the enthusiasm of the Christian host, struck terror into the enemy, who at once 
 took to flight. Most of those who escaped the sword perished in the river. This 
 victory, aehieved at Maes-Oarmon, was called " Victoria Alleluiatica," Brit. Eccles. 
 AXTIQ., 335 ; Bro., lib. i., c. i., 20. 
 
 '..'■ ■ 
 
 . : 111 
 
 4 
 
 ' *k 
 
 ■ I ; 
 
 11^ 
 
334 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book XI. 
 
 il 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 " Hark to the measured march ! — The Saxons come 
 The sound earth quails beneath the hollow tread 
 
 Your fathers rushed upon the swords of Rome 
 And climbed her war ships — when the Csesiir fled 
 
 The Saxons come ! why wait within the wall 1 
 
 They scale the mountain : — let its torrents faii i 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 " Mark, ye have swords, and shields, and armour, ye ! 
 
 No mail defends the Cymrian Child of Song,* 
 But where the warrior — there the Bard shall be ! 
 
 All fields of glory to the Bard belong ! 
 His realm extends wherever god-like strife 
 Spurns the base death, and wins immortal life. 
 
 xxxvii. 
 
 ** Unarmed he goes — his guard the shields of all, 
 Where he bounds foremost on the Saxon spear ! 
 
 Unarmed he goes, that, falling, ev'n his fall 
 
 Shall bring no shame, and shall bequeath no fear ! 
 
 Does his song cease ? — avenge it by the deed, 
 
 And make his sepulchre- a nation freed !" 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 He said, and where tb^ chieftains wrangling sate, 
 Led the grand army marshalled by his song ; 
 
 Into the hall — and on the wild debate. 
 King of all kings, A People, poured along ; 
 
 And from the heart of man the trumpet cry 
 
 Smote faction down, " Arms, arms and liberty ! " — 
 
 No CjTnriRU bard, according to the primitive law, was allowed the use of weapons. 
 
[book XI. 
 
 IS come 
 
 ir tread 
 
 ne 
 
 iSiir fled 
 
 H 
 
 111 i 
 
 nour, YE ! 
 
 * 
 
 ng, 
 I be! 
 
 fe. 
 
 all, 
 3ear ! 
 
 no fear ! 
 
 3ate, 
 
 g; 
 
 use of weapons. 
 
 BOOK XI.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 333 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 Meanwhile rolled on the Saxon s long array ; 
 
 On to the wall the surge of slaughter rolled ; 
 Slow up the mount — slow heaved its awful way ; 
 
 The moonlight rested on the domes of gold ; 
 No warder peals alarum from the keep, 
 And Death comes mute, as on the realm of Sleep ; 
 
 XL. 
 
 When, as their ladders touched the ruined wall. 
 And to the van, high-towering, Harold strode, 
 
 Sudden expand the brazen-gates, and all 
 The awful arch as with the lava glowed ; 
 
 Torch upon torch the dreadful sweep illumes. 
 
 The burst of armour and the flash of plumes ! 
 
 XLI. 
 
 Kings OAvaine's shout ; — rings Gerainb's thunder-cry ; 
 
 The Saxon's death-knell in a hundred wars ; 
 And Cador's laugh of joy ; — rush through the sky 
 
 Bright tossing banderolls — swift as shooting stars. — 
 Trystan's white lion — Lancelot's cross of red, 
 And Tudor'iij* standard with the Saxon's head. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 And high o'er all, its scaled splendour rears 
 The vengeful emblem of the Dragon Kings. 
 
 Full on the Saxon bursts the storm of spears ; 
 Far down the vale the charging whirlwind rings ; 
 
 While, thro' the ranks its barbed knighthood clave, 
 
 All Carduel follows with its roaring wave. 
 
 * The old arms of the Tudors were three Saxons' heads. 
 
 w 
 
336 
 
 KING ARTIWR. 
 
 [book XI. 
 
 in 
 
 1 ' 
 
 -; 
 } 
 
 t 
 i 
 1 
 
 ! ^ 
 
 1 
 
 • 4 
 
 1 i 
 !i ; 
 
 j; ( 
 III 
 
 i: 
 
 i ; 
 
 1 f 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 And ever in the van, with robes of white 
 And ivory harp, shone swordless Caradoc ; 
 
 And ever floated in melodious might, 
 
 The clear song buoyant o'er the battle shock ; 
 
 Calm as an ea^le, when the Olympian King 
 
 Sends the red bolt upon its tranquil wing 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 Borne back, and wedged v/ithin the ponderous weight 
 Of their own dense and multitudinous crowd, 
 
 Recoiled the Saxons ! As adown the height 
 Of some grey mountain, rolls the cloven cloud, 
 
 Smit by the shafts of the resistless day, — 
 
 So to the vale sunk dun the rent array. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 Midway bet\ een the camp and Carduel, 
 Halting their slow retreat, the Saxons stood ; 
 
 There, as the Sea Arabian ere it fell 
 
 On Egypt's chariots, gathered up the flood ; 
 
 There, in suspended deluge, solid rose, 
 
 And hung expectant o'er the hurrying foes. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 Right in the centre, rampired round with shields, 
 King Crida stood, — o'er him, its livid mane 
 
 The Horsa whose pasture 7.s the Valkyr's fields 
 Flung wide ;— but, foremost thro' the javelin rain, 
 
 Blazed Harold's helm, as when, thro' all the stars 
 
 Distinct, pale soothsayers see the dooming Mars» 
 
[hook XI. 
 
 nooK XI.] 
 
 KING ARTIWn. 
 
 337 
 
 ock; 
 
 ous weiglit 
 
 OWll, 
 
 t 
 cloud, 
 
 )od ; 
 od ; 
 
 lields, 
 ne 
 ds 
 
 elin rain, 
 stars 
 larSi 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 JJown dazzling sweeps the Cymrian Chivalry 
 Round the bright sweep closes the Saxon wall ; 
 
 Snatcht from the glimmer of the funeral sky, 
 liaves the blind murder j and enclasped with all 
 
 Its own stern hell, against the iron bar 
 
 Pants the fierce heart of the imprisoned War. 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 Only by gleaming banners and the flash 
 
 Of some large sword, the vext Obscure once more 
 
 Sparkled to light. In one tumultuous crash 
 
 Merged every sound — and when the maelstrom's roar 
 
 By dire Lofoden, dulls the seaman's gro m 
 
 And drowns the voice of tempests in it i own. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 The Cymrian ranks, — disparted from their van. 
 
 And their hemmed horsemen, — stubborn, but in vain. 
 
 Press thro' the levelled spears ; yet, man by man. 
 And shield to shield close-serried, they sustain 
 
 The sleeting hail against them hurtling sent. 
 
 From every cloud in that dread armament. 
 
 L. 
 
 But now, at length, cleaving the solid clang. 
 And o'er the dead men in their frowning sleep, 
 
 The rallying shouts of chiefs confronted rang 
 
 " Thor and AValhalla !" — answered swift and deep 
 
 By "Alleluia !" and thy cha'^.itod cry. 
 
 Young Bard sublime, "For Christ and Liberty 
 
 W 
 
 i'» 
 
 Hi* 
 
 V i i ^ i 
 
 I :V> 
 
 n! 
 
 ii: 
 
 M 
 
i 
 
 
 t 
 
 
 f 
 
 
 * 
 
 
 ■1 
 
 ; .'I 
 
 .■-■■' 
 
 " f 
 
 . ! 
 
 i 
 
 i 
 
 i i 
 
 i i 
 
 338 
 
 KING AllTHUR. 
 
 [book XI. 
 
 LI. 
 
 Then the ranks opened, and the midnight moon 
 Streamed where the battle, like the scornful main. 
 
 Ebbed from the dismal wrecks its wrath had strewn, 
 Paused either host ;— lo, in the central plain 
 
 Two chiefs had let, pr? ' ii that brjathless pauso, 
 
 Each to i . chaiApkiU iiit ^i Nation s cause. 
 
 it: 
 
 Now, heaven defend thee, noble Lancelot ! 
 
 For never yet such danger thee befell, — 
 Tho' loftier deeds than thine emblazon not 
 
 The peerless Twelve of golden Carduel, 
 Tho* oft thy breast hath singly stemmed a field, — 
 As wlien thy falchion clashed on Harold's shield ! 
 
 LIII. 
 
 And Lancelot knew not his majestic foe, 
 Save by his deeds ; by Cador's cloven crest ; 
 
 By Modred's corpse ; by rills of bVood below, 
 
 And shrinking helms aoove ; — when from the rest 
 
 Spurring, — the steel of his uplifted brand 
 
 Drew down the lightning of that red right hand. 
 
 LIV. 
 
 Full on the Saxon's shield the sword descends ; 
 
 The strong shield clattering shivers at the stroke, 
 And the bright crest with all its plumage bends. 
 
 As to the blast with all its boughs an oak : 
 As from the blast an oak retowering slow, 
 The crest remounts, and overshades the foe. 
 
[book XI. 
 
 BOOK XI. 1 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 339 
 
 y 
 > 
 
 moon 
 
 rnful main, 
 lad strewn, 
 plain 
 's pauso, 
 
 LV. 
 
 Now, grasp el with both hantls, o'er the Cliristiau hung 
 The f«:e that Woden tau^ho his sons to wield ; 
 
 Slujit from the death-blo.v Lancelot's charger sprung, 
 And Cvmv* sees its champion fly the field. 
 
 Feigns he to fly, Lut to renew, the strife ? 
 
 Or holds he honour of less worth than life '? 
 
 R 
 
 )t 
 
 \ field, — 
 J shield ! 
 
 Test ; 
 
 ow, 
 
 m the rest 
 
 t hand. 
 
 nds; 
 
 le stroke, 
 )ends, 
 ik : 
 
 LVI. 
 
 " Lo, Saxons, lo, what chiefs these Walloons* lead ' 
 Laughed hollow from his helm the scornful Tha ^^ 
 
 Then tow'rds less recreant knights he spurred h* /j 
 When on his path rushed Lancelot again* 
 
 Thus, when awhile the falcon boars away, 
 
 *Tis but for deadlier swoop upon its prey : 
 
 LVII. 
 
 And as the falcon, while its talons dart 
 
 Into the crane's broad bosom, splits its own 
 
 On the sharp beak, and, clinging heart to heart. 
 Both in one plumage blent, spin whirling down,- 
 
 So in that shock each found, and dealt, the blow ; 
 
 Rolled horse on horse j fell, grappling, foe on foe. 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 First to his feet the slighter Cynuian leapt. 
 And on the Saxon's breast set firm his knee ; 
 
 Then thro' the heathen host a shudder crept. 
 Rose all their voices, — wild and wailingly ; 
 
 " Woe, Harold, woe ! " as from one bosom came, 
 
 The groan of thousands, and the mighty name. 
 
 ^ Walloons,— the name given by the Saxons, in contumelyj to the Cymrians^ 
 
 J, 
 
 il''t 
 
 , t 
 
 \ i 
 
 t 
 
 ■ ( 
 
 ■ ! 
 
 ■I I.' 
 
 
 ill 
 
 « i! 
 
i I: 
 
 
 m 
 
 f ■ 
 
 ► 1 ■( 
 
 r- 
 
 340 
 
 A:/iV(? ARTIIUll 
 
 [book XI. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 The Cymrlan starts, and stays liis lifted hand, 
 For at tliat name from Harold's vizor shone 
 
 Genevra's eyes ! Back in the sheath the brand 
 
 He plunged : — rose Harold — and the foe was gone, — 
 
 Loit amid dust-clouds, big with arrowy rain, 
 
 Where thickest grouped the slaughterers round the slain. 
 
 LX. 
 
 Fast on his track spurred every Cymriau knight. 
 Again confused, the onslaught raged on high ; 
 
 Again the war-shout swelled above the fight. 
 Again the chaunt " for Christ and Liberty,'' 
 
 When, with fresh hosts unbreathed, the Saxon king 
 
 Forth from the wall of shields leapt thundering. 
 
 LXl. 
 
 Behind the chief the dreadful gonfanon 
 
 Spread; — the Pale Horse went rushing down the wind.— 
 " On where the Valkyrs rest o'er Carduel, on ! 
 
 On o'er the corpses to the wolf consigned ! 
 On, that the Pale Horse, ere the night be o'er, 
 Stalled in yon tower, may rest his hoofs of gore ! " 
 
 LXII. 
 
 Thus spoke the king, and all his hosts replied ; 
 
 Filled by his word and kindled by his look—* 
 For helmless, with his grey hair streaming wide, 
 
 He strided thro' the si)ears ; — the mountains shook—- 
 Shook the dim city — as that answer rang ; 
 The fierce shout chiming to the buckler's clang ! 
 
 » 
 
 t*- 
 
[book XI. 
 
 id, 
 
 me 
 
 •and 
 
 was gone, — 
 
 und the slain. 
 
 liglit, 
 ligh J 
 t, 
 
 • 
 
 yr 
 
 xon king 
 
 Ting. 
 
 vn. the wind.— 
 
 n 
 
 or, 
 
 Iffore 
 
 i»' 
 
 k— 
 
 /ide, 
 
 ns shock- 
 
 ing ! 
 
 BOOK XI.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 341 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 Aghast, the Cymrians see, like Titan sons 
 
 New-born from earth, — leap forth the sudden bands : 
 
 As when the wind's invisilde tremour runs 
 
 Thro' corn-sheafs ripening for the reaper's hands. 
 
 The glittering tumult undulating tlows, 
 
 And the field quivers where the panic goes. 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 The Christians waver — shrink — recoil — give way, 
 Strike with weak hands amazed ; half turn to flee ; 
 
 In vain with knightly charge their chiefs delay 
 The hostile mass that rolls resistlessly ; 
 
 And the pale hoofs, for aye, had trampled down 
 
 The Cymrian freedom and the Dragon Crown, 
 
 LXV. 
 
 But for that arch preserver, under heaven. 
 
 Of names and states, the Bard ! the hour was come 
 
 To prove the ends for which the lyre was given : — 
 Each thought divine demands its martyrdom. 
 
 Where round the central standard rallying flock 
 
 The Dragon Chiefs — paused and spoke Caradoc : 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 " Ye Cymrian men !" Hushed at the calm sweet sound, 
 Drooped the wild murmur, bowed the loftiest crest. 
 
 Meekly the haughty paladins grouped round 
 The swordless hero with the mail-less breast, 
 
 Whose front, serene amid the spears, had taught 
 
 To humbled Force the chivalry of Thought. 
 
 i 
 
 I 
 
 'Hi 
 
 S 
 

 I 
 
 342 
 
 KING ARTIIUn. 
 
 [book XI. 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 *' Yo Cymrian men — from Hcus the Guardian's tomb 
 I speak the oracular promise of the Past. 
 
 Fe.ar not the Saxon ! Till the Judgment-Doom, 
 Free on their hills the Dragon race shall last, 
 
 If from yon heathen, ye this night can save 
 
 One spot not wider than a single grave. 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 " For thus the antique prophecy decrees, — 
 
 ' When, where the Pale Horse crushes down the dead, 
 
 War's many sons shall see one child of Peace 
 Grasp at the mane to fall beneath the tread — 
 
 There, where he fiilleth let his corpse remain, 
 
 There, bid the Dragon rest above the slain ; 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 (( ( 
 
 There, let the steel-clad living watch the clay. 
 Till on that spot the grave for it be made, — 
 And the Pale Horse shall melt in cloud away. 
 
 No stranger's step the sacred mound invade : 
 A People's life that single death shall save, 
 And all the land be hallowed by one grave.* 
 
 LXX. 
 
 " So be the Guardian's prophecy fulfilled ! 
 
 Advance the Dragon, for the grave is mine." 
 He ceased ; while yet the silver accents thrilled 
 
 Each mail-clad bosom, down the listenincr line 
 Bounded his steed, and like an arrow went 
 His plume, swift glancing thro' the armament ; 
 
[book XI. 
 
 BOOK XI.] 
 
 KING ARTIIUll 
 
 313 
 
 tlian's tomb 
 
 St. 
 
 Doom, 
 1 last, 
 
 lown the dead, 
 
 ;ace 
 
 •ead — 
 
 \\n. 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 On, thro* the tempest, went it glimmering ; 
 
 On, thro' the rushing barbs and levelled spears ; 
 On, where, far streaming o'er the Teuton king. 
 
 Its horrent pomp the ghastly standard rears ; 
 On rushed to rescue all to whom his breath 
 Lent what saves Nations, — the disdain of death. 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 Alike the loftiest knight and meanest man. 
 All the roused host, but now so panic-chilled, 
 
 All Cymri once more as one Cymrian, 
 With the last light of that grand spirit filled, 
 
 Thro* rank on rank, down-mowed, down-trampled, sped, 
 
 And reached the standard — to defend the dead. 
 
 
 e clay, 
 
 le- 
 
 ade : 
 
 Ine." 
 illed 
 X line 
 
 snt ; 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 Wrenched from the heathen's hand, one moment, bowed 
 In the bright Christian's grasp, the gonfanon ; 
 
 Then from a dumb amaze the countless crowd 
 Woke, — and the night, as with a sudden sun, 
 
 Flashed with avenging steel ; life gained its goal. 
 
 And calm from lips proud-smiling went the soul ! 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 Leapt from hi^ selle, the king-bom Lancelot ; 
 
 Leapt from the selle each paladin and knight ; 
 In one mute sign that, where upon that spot 
 
 The foot was planted, God forbade the flight : 
 There, should the Father-land avenge its son. 
 Or heap all Cymri round the grave of one. 
 
 . '4 
 
 
•Jll^.^.Ji;»;*j,ai.(( 
 
 344 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book X 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 Then, well nigh side by side — broad floated forth 
 The Cymrian Dragon and the Teuton Steed, 
 
 The rival Powers that struggle for the north ; 
 The gory Idol — the chivalric Creed ; 
 
 Odin's and Christ's confronting flags unfurled, 
 
 As which should save and which destroy a world : 
 
 ■> \ i 
 
 ■ S ! >•' fa ». 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 Then fought those Cymrian men, as if on each 
 All Cyrnri set its last undaunted hope ; 
 
 Thro' the steel bulwarks round them yawns the breach ; 
 Vistas to freedom brightning onwards ope ; 
 
 Crida in vain leads band on slaugl:*;ered band, 
 
 In vain unsparing smites dread Harold's hand ; 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 As the fierce pard, when in its headlong bound 
 On the wild bull, baffled by horns tliat gore. 
 
 Shrinks back, and reddens, in retreat, the ground 
 With ebbing life-blood ; — so recedes, before 
 
 Its purposed victim, Crida's foiled array, 
 
 A;7ed by the marvel of its own dismay. 
 
 Lx:xvni. 
 
 " Some God mere mighty than Walhalla's king 
 Strikes in yon arms" — the sullen murmurs run, 
 
 And fast and faster speeds the Dragon wing — 
 And shrinks and cowers the ghastly gonfanon, 
 
 The panic gathers, and the Pale Horse flies ; 
 
 Lone rests the Dragon under dawnin[^ skies ! 
 
 't. 'M 
 
[book X 
 
 BOOK XI.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 3i5 
 
 
 (1 forth 
 
 eed, 
 
 th; 
 
 led, 
 world : 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 Lone rests the Dragon, with its wings outspread 
 O'er one spot liallowed ; — Caradoc lies there ; 
 
 And there kneel Cliiristian warriors round the Dead, 
 With sobs that slowly vent themselves in prayer. 
 
 Calm is the dead man's smile as when he braved 
 
 Hosts ', and his altars and his land were saved. 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 ;ach 
 
 s the breach ; 
 
 )e; 
 
 tnd, 
 
 ind ; 
 
 und 
 ore, 
 ground 
 jre 
 
 icmg 
 rs run. 
 
 ;inon. 
 
 Pardon, ye shrouded and mysterious Powers, 
 Ye far-off Shadows from the spirit-clime. 
 
 If, for that realm untrodden by tlie Hours, 
 Awhile we leave this lazar-house of Time ; 
 
 With Song remounting to those native airs 
 
 Of which, tho' exiled, still we are the heirs. 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 Up from the clay and tow'rds the Seraphim, 
 The Immortal, men called Caradoc, arose. 
 
 Round the freed captive whose m(!lodious hymn 
 Had hailed each ray our earthly prison knows. 
 
 Spread all tlie aisles by angel worship trod ; 
 
 Blazed every altar conscious of its God ; 
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 All the illumed creation one calm shrine ; 
 
 All space one rapt adoring ecstacy ; 
 All the sweet stars, with their untroubled sliiiie, 
 Near and more near enlarging thro' th(^ . ky ; 
 All, opening gradual on the eternal sight, 
 Joy after joy, the depths of their delight. 
 
m-' 
 
 fi 
 
 ? i 
 
 ' 't 
 
 • 
 
 ' 
 
 1, 'ii 
 
 346 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book XI. 
 
 LXXXIII. 
 
 Paused on the marge, Heaven's beautiful New-born, 
 Paused on the marge of that wide happiness ; 
 
 And as a lark that, poised amid the morn. 
 
 Shakes from its wings the dews, — the plumes of bliss, 
 
 Sunned in the dawn of the diviner birth. 
 
 Shook every sorrow memory bore from earth : 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 Knowledge, which on the troubled waves of sense 
 Breaks into sparkles, poured upon the soul 
 
 Its lambent, clear, translucent affluence, 
 
 And cold-eyed Reason loosed its hard control ; 
 
 Each godlike guess beheld the truth it sought ; 
 
 And inspiration flashed from what was thought. 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 Stilled evermore the old familiar train 
 
 Of human motivec prompting human deeds. 
 
 The unquiet race of the material brain, 
 
 Formed for this life, and fashioned to its needs. 
 
 But without uses in that second birth. 
 
 When wakes in heaven the soul's last sleep on earth. 
 
 LXXXVI. 
 
 Greed and Ambition, those misled desires 
 For bournes that fly us into worlds afar ; 
 
 And Ccirnal Passion which with meteor fires 
 Allures from lights in heaven ; Wisdom at war 
 
 With its own angel, Faith ; — that nurse of Grief, 
 
 Hope, crowned with flowers, a blight in every leaf ; 
 
[book XI. 
 
 ew-born, 
 less ; 
 
 nes of bliss, 
 h: 
 
 : sense 
 il 
 
 trol ; 
 
 It; 
 ght. 
 
 leeds, 
 )n earth. 
 
 war 
 rief, 
 Y leaf ; 
 
 BOOK XI.] 
 
 KING AUTHUn. 
 
 347 
 
 LXXXVII. 
 
 All these are still — abandoned to the worm. 
 
 Their loud breath jars not on the calm above : 
 Only survived, as if the single germ 
 
 Of the new life's celestial essence, — love. 
 Ah, if the bud can give such bloom to Time, 
 What is the flower when in its native clime 1 
 
 LXXXVIII. 
 
 Love to the radiant Stranger left alone 
 
 Of all the vanished hosts of memory ; 
 While broadening round, on splendour spi'^ndour shone. 
 
 To earth soft-pitying dropt the veil-less eye. 
 And saw the shape, that love remembered still, 
 Couched 'mid the ruins on the moonlit hill ; 
 
 LXXXIX. 
 
 And the freed Spirit comprehending all 
 
 Which to the labouring King had been ordained. 
 
 Knew itself summoned, and obeyed th* call, 
 
 To crown with peace the gifts thro' ■ onflict. gained. 
 
 And to reveal, in Arthur's destined bride. 
 
 The lovely form concealed in Duty's guide. 
 
 xc. 
 
 Pale to the slumbering king the Shadow came. 
 
 Its glory left it as the earth it neared. 
 In livid likeness as its corpse the same. 
 
 Wan with its wounds the awful ghost appeared. 
 Life heard the voice of unembodied breath, 
 And Sleep stood trembling side hy side with Death. 
 
'ii>kilirt,*JSimt^<f 
 
 348 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book xr. 
 
 xci. 
 
 " Come," said the Voice, "Before the Iron Gate 
 Which hath no egress, waiting thee, behold 
 
 Beside that Power wh.ich is to Matter — Fate, 
 But not to Soul, — the guide with locks of gold." 
 
 Then rose the mortal following, and, l^eforo, 
 
 Moved the pale shape the angel's comrade wore. 
 
 XCII. 
 
 Where, in tlie centre of those ruins grey, 
 
 Immense with blind walls columnless, a tomb 
 
 For earlier kings, whose names had passed awaj"", 
 Dusked the chill moonlight with its mass of gloom ; 
 
 Thro' doors, ajar to every prying blast, 
 
 By which to rot imperial dust had passed. 
 
 XCIII. 
 
 The Vision went, and went the living king ; 
 
 Then strange and hard to human ear to tell 
 By language moulded but by thoughts that bring 
 
 Material images, what there befell ! 
 The mortal entered Eld's dumb burial place. 
 And at the threshold, vanished time and space ! 
 
 xoiv. 
 
 Yea, the hard sense of time was from the mind 
 Rased and annihilate ; — yea, space to eye 
 
 And soul was presericeless ? What rest behind 1 
 T\"^\i^:t Jtnd the Infinite ! the eternal I, 
 
 And it^ v"ie rtulm the Limitless, whose brink 
 
 ThoMsrlit <r.T:' ne.rrs: What b mnds us when we think % 
 
 Hi 
 
 1 1*1., 
 
[book Xf. 
 
 DOOK 
 
 XI.] 
 
 KING ARTinm. 
 
 349 
 
 Sratc 
 i 
 
 gold." 
 
 )re. 
 
 xcv. 
 
 " Wliat," asked the Dreamer, " is this Nothingness, 
 Empty as air — yet air witliout a breath V 
 
 Answered the Ghost — " Tho' it be measureless, 
 'Tis but that line 'twixt life and life called 'Death,'* 
 
 Which souls, transported to a second birth. 
 
 Pass in r.n instant when they soar from earth. 
 
 xcvi. 
 
 mb 
 t'ay, 
 ' gloom ; 
 
 ''From the brief Here to the eternal There 
 We can but see the swift flash of the goal, 
 
 Less than the space between two waves of air, 
 The void between existence and a soul ; 
 
 Wherefore look forth and with calm sight endure 
 
 The vague impalpable, inane Obscure ! 
 
 XCVII. 
 
 •ing 
 
 e ! 
 
 " Lo, by the Iron Gate a giant cloud, 
 
 From which emerge (the form itself unseen,) 
 
 Vast adamantine brows, sublimely bowed 
 Over the dark — relentlessly serene ; 
 
 That power called Nature, — in this mortal state 
 
 Is to all matter which is soulless. Fate ; t 
 
 1 
 
 d? 
 
 think ? 
 
 * The sublime idea of the mmentity of death, of the instantaneous tri: of the soul 
 from one phase and cycle of beinjj to another, is earnestly insisted up by tho early 
 Cymrian bards in terms which seem borrowed from some spiritual t' i anterior to 
 that which does in truth teach that the life of man, once begun, ha !> only no end, 
 but no pause — and, in the triumphal cry of the Christian, "Op -e, where is thy 
 victory?" — annihilates death. 
 
 t Sir William Hamilton (Lectures on Metai»hysics, vol. i. p. 40, foot note) thus explain.s 
 the sense in which Nature is here viewed — a.s distinct from the vague and non-mefa- 
 
 f)hysical sense in which she is po])ularly regarded at loa.st by English wri'ers, and is for 
 nstance, addressed (Book viii, stanzas cvii— viii), in this I'oem • - " In the phibwophy of 
 Germany, Natur and its correlatives, whether of Greek or Latin dori\ation, arc In 
 general expressive of the world of matter in contrast to the world of intelligence. ' 
 I was not aware when in accepting this metaphysical definition of Nature, I attempted 
 
't I 
 
 ■" 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 1 i 
 
 
 n 
 
 ' h '1 
 
 
 1 
 
 i| }f\ ^ 
 
 Wa 
 
 ^yi 
 
 
 
 350 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book XI. 
 
 XCVIII. 
 
 " Issuing fixed laws which the brute world obey ; 
 
 Hiding the Great Law-giver of the whole ; 
 Nature saith not unto the lion ' Pray,' 
 
 Nor to the Lamb 'Look upward !' — in the Soul 
 Of Man the Supernatural lodged reveals 
 The God whom Nat\ire — Matter's Fate — conceals. 
 
 xcix. 
 
 " And every work in which his sovran art 
 Bows will-less Nature to subserve his will, 
 
 And every instinct which compels his heart 
 To yearnings Nature never can fulfil, 
 
 Attest the future which to Man is given 
 
 As earth's sole creature that conceives a heaven." 
 
 to show, in the earlier editions of my poem, how Nature, thus seen, identifies herself 
 with Necessity <ir Fate, that a similar or analogous Idea had been expressed by one of 
 the noblest reasoners on the immaterial or religious side of philosophical inquiry, viz : — 
 Jocobi, whom Sir William Hamilton justly entitles " the pious and profound." And in 
 tins edition the verses in the former ones have been recast in order to avail myself as 
 far as possible of the argument conveyed by Jacobi iix the sentences I subjoin, and 
 which 1 would respectfully entreat the reader to peruse with care, not only as affording 
 the authority unon which the reasonings in the text are mainly based, but as supplying 
 the key to wha > er it may seem to him that the verses have left obscure. 
 
 " But is it unreasonable to confess that we believe in God, not by reason of the 
 nature, which conceals Him, but by reason il the supernatural in man, which alone 
 reveals and proves Him to exist? 
 
 "Nature Conceals God: for through her whole domain Nature reveals only fate, 
 only an indissoluble chain of mere efficient causes without beginning and without end, 
 excluding, with equal necessity, both providence and chance. An independent agency, 
 a free original connnencement within her sphere, and proceeding from her powers, is 
 absolutely impossible. Working without will, she takes counsel neither of the good nor 
 of the beautiful; creating nothing, she casts up from her dark abyss only eternal 
 transformations c* herself, unconsciously and without an end ; furthering with the same 
 ceaseless industry decline and increase, death and life,— never producuig what alone ia 
 of God, and what supposes liberty — the virtuous, the immortal. 
 
 " Man Reveals God : for man by his intelligence rises above nature, and in virtue of 
 this intelligence is conscious of himself as a power, not only indeijendent of, but opposed 
 to, nature, and capable of resisting, conquering, and controlling her. As man has a 
 living faith in his power, superior to nature, which dwells in him, so has he a belief in 
 God, a feeling, an experience of his existence. As he does not believe in this power, so 
 does he not believe in God ; he sees, he experiences nought in existence but Nature, — 
 Necessity,— Fate."— -Jacobi, Von den Gottlichen Dingen, Werkeiii. p. 424— C; quoted by 
 Sir William Ilamiltun, Lectures on Mcta|)hysic8, vol. i. p. 40—41. 
 
[book XI. 
 
 )bey; 
 
 B Soul 
 
 iccals. 
 
 ven. 
 
 >» 
 
 1, identifies herself 
 xpressed by one of 
 ical inquiry, viz : — 
 irofound." And in 
 to avail mj'self as 
 ces I subjoin, and 
 )t only as affording 
 ', but as supplying 
 cure, 
 by reason of the 
 man, which alone 
 
 reveals only fate, 
 and without end, 
 dependent agency, 
 '^m her powers, is 
 ler of the good nor 
 ibyss only eternal 
 ing with the same 
 iiig what alone is 
 
 and in virtue of 
 nt of, but opposed 
 er. As man has a 
 las he a belief in 
 in this power, so 
 ice but Nature, — 
 424- C; quoted by 
 
 BOOK XI.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 351 
 
 0. 
 
 While spoke the ghost, before the Iron Gate 
 
 Sudden stood forth amidst the cloud whose gloom 
 
 Mantled the form of Nature throned as Fate, 
 An image radiant with no mortal bloom, 
 
 Its left hand bore a mirror, crystal-bright, 
 
 A wand star-pointed, glittered in the right. 
 
 CI. 
 
 " Dost thou not know me 1 — Me, thy second soul ? 
 
 Dost thou not know me, Arthur ?" said the voice ; 
 "I who have led thee to each noble goal. 
 
 Mirrored thy heart, and starward led thy choice 1 
 To teach thee wisdom won in Labour's school, 
 I lured thy footsteps to the forest pool, 
 
 CII. 
 
 " Shewed all the woes which wait inebriate Power, 
 And woke the Man from Youth's voluptuous dream ; 
 
 Glassed on the crystal — let each stainless hour 
 Obey the wand I lift unto the beam ; 
 
 And at the last, when yonder gates expand, 
 
 Pass with thy Guardian Angel hand in hand." 
 
 cm. 
 
 Spoke the sweet Splendour, and, as music dies 
 Into the heart that hears it, passed away, 
 
 Tlien Arthur lifted his serenest eyes 
 
 Tow'rds the pale Shade from tlie celestial day, 
 
 And said, " thou in life beloved so well, 
 
 Dream I or awake ? — As those last accents fell, 
 
 
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 B 
 
 [ . J ,^, 
 
 8 
 
 
 1 
 
 
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 I ill' I 
 
 ' ilf ' 
 
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 352 
 
 KING AUTIIUn. 
 
 [book XI. 
 
 CIV. 
 
 " So fears that, spite of thy mild words, dismayed — 
 Fears not of death, Init that wliicli death conceals, 
 
 Vanish ; — my soul that tremhled at thy shade, 
 Yearns to the far light which the shade reveals, 
 
 And sees how human is the dismal error 
 
 That hideth God, when veiling Death with terror. 
 
 cv. 
 
 " Ev'n thus some infant, in the early spring. 
 Under he pale buds of the almond tree. 
 
 Shrinks from th© wind that, with an icy wing 
 
 Shakes, showering down, white flakes that seem to be 
 
 Winter's wan sleet, — till the quick sunbeam shows 
 
 That those were blossoms which he took for snows. 
 
 cvi. 
 
 " Thou, to this last supremest mystery 
 Of my V range travail, as instructor sent. 
 
 Dear as thou wert, I will not mourn for thee. 
 
 Thou wert not shaped for earth's hard element— 
 
 Our ends, our aims, our pleasure and our woe, 
 
 Thou knew'st them all, but thine we could not know. 
 
 evil. 
 
 " Forgive that none were worthy of thy worth 1 
 That none took heed, upon their plodding way. 
 
 What diamond dew was on the flowers of earth, 
 Till, in thy soul, drawn upward to the Jay. 
 
 But now, why gape the wounds upon thy breast ? 
 
 What guilty hand dismissed thee to the blest ] 
 
 M 
 
[cook XI. 
 
 ismaycd — 
 h conceals, 
 ado, 
 reveals, 
 
 li terror. 
 
 BOOK XI.] 
 
 KING ARTIIUn. 
 
 353 
 
 CVIII. 
 
 " For blest thou art, belovVl and lost 1 Oh, speak, 
 Say thou art with the i\ngcls ?" — As at night 
 
 Far off, the pharos on the mountain-peak 
 Sends o'er dim ocean one pale path of light, 
 
 Lost in the widencss of the weltering Sea, — 
 
 So, that one gleam along eternity 
 
 rr 
 
 C5> 
 
 vmg 
 
 hat seem to be 
 tm shows 
 i'or snows. 
 
 lee, 
 
 element- 
 woe, 
 d not know. 
 
 worth 1 
 [ing way, 
 [ earth, 
 
 lay. 
 r breast ? 
 blest 1 
 
 C'lX. 
 
 Vouchsafed, Heaven's messenger (his mission < loscd) 
 Fled ; and the mortal stooii amidst the cloud. 
 
 All dark above, — lo at his t\\>t lY^posed 
 
 Beneath the Brows which over boMi were bowed, 
 
 With looks that lit the darkness wheio they smiled, 
 
 A Virgin shape, half woman and half child ! 
 
 ex. 
 
 There as if Nature (call by that mild name 
 
 The Power which but to soul-less things is Fate), 
 
 Had culled her choicest elements to frame 
 Perfected Beauty, — by the Iron Gate 
 
 The dreamer gazed upon the promised guide 
 
 Thro' life to deatli, his soul's predestined bride. 
 
 CXI, 
 
 And as he gazed he thought to hear from far 
 
 The Enchanter's voice — "Behold, transformed the Dove ! 
 
 In this last prize thy trials ended are : 
 
 No life completes itself that knows not love 
 
 As the soul knows it." — Here the morning beam 
 
 Flashed on the dreamer and dispelled the dream. 
 
 'V 
 
 \i. 
 
 
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 ni\ 
 
 H,H 
 
 '■■ I 
 
 ill? 8 
 
 P 
 
 
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 lit; 
 
 m-: 
 
 if 
 
 354 
 
 /ST/JVG! ARTIIUIL 
 
 [book XI. 
 
 ex II. 
 
 Was it in truth a Dream ? He gazed aroiiiul, 
 And saw tlie granite of sepulchral walls ; 
 
 Thro' open doors, along th.o desolate ground, 
 O'er coffined dust — the joyous sunshine fall 
 
 Revives the stir of insect life, and flings 
 
 A glory wasted oi^ the tombs of kings. 
 
 CXIII. 
 
 lie stood within that Golgotha of old, 
 
 Whither the Phantom first had led the soul. 
 
 It was no dream ! lo, round those locks of gold 
 Rest the young sunbeams like an auriole ; 
 
 Lo, where the day night's mystic promise keeps, 
 
 And in the tomb a life of beauty sleeps ! 
 
 cxiv. 
 
 Slow to his eyes, those lids reveal their own, 
 And, the lips smiling even in their sigh, 
 
 The Virgi.i woke. O never yet was known, 
 In bower or pleasaunce under summer sky, 
 
 Life so enriched with nature's happiest bloom 
 
 As thine, thou young Aurora of the tomb ! 
 
 cxv. 
 
 Words cannot paint thee, gentlest cynosure 
 Of all things lovely in that loveliest form 
 
 Souls wear — the youth of woman ! brows as pure 
 As Memphian skie' that never knew a storm ; 
 
 Lips v/ith such sweetness in their honied deeps 
 
 As fills a rose in which a fairy sleeps ; 
 
[book XI. 
 
 BOOK XI.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 355 
 
 iiitl, 
 fall,, 
 
 soul. 
 
 r gold 
 
 keeps, 
 
 wn, 
 > 
 
 sky, 
 oom 
 
 \ 
 
 re 
 rm 
 
 as pure 
 storm ; 
 deeps 
 
 ex VI. 
 
 Eyes on whose tenderest azure, adiing licarts 
 Might look as to a heaven, and cease to grieve ; 
 
 The very blush, as day, wlien it departs, 
 Haloes, in Hushing, the mild ehcek of eve. 
 
 Taking soft warmth in light from earth afar, 
 
 Heralds no thought less holy than a star. 
 
 ex VII. 
 
 And Arthur spoke ! ye, all noble souls, 
 
 Di\ ine how knighthood speaks to maiden frar ! 
 
 Yet, is it fear which that young heart controuls 
 And leaves its music voiceless on the ear ? — 
 
 Ye, who have felt what words can ne'er exprejss. 
 
 Say then, is fear as still as happiness ? 
 
 exviii. 
 
 By the mute pathos of an eloquent sign. 
 
 Her rosy finger on her lip, the maid 
 Seemed to denote that on that coral shrino 
 
 Speech was to silence vowed. Then from the sluuh; 
 Gliding — she stood beneath the golden skies. 
 Fair as the dawn that brightened Paradise. 
 
 cxix. 
 
 And Arthur looked, and saw the dove no more j 
 Yet, by some wild and wonderous glamoury, 
 
 Changed to the shape the new companion wore. 
 His soul the missing Angel seemed to see ; 
 
 And soft and silent as the earlier guide. 
 
 The soft eyes thrill, the silent footsteps glide. 
 
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356 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book XI. 
 
 cxx. 
 
 Thro' paths his y ester steps had failed to find, 
 Adown the woodland slope she leads the kinj^, — 
 
 And, pausing oft, she turns to look behind. 
 As ott had turned the dove upon the wing. 
 
 And oft he questioned, still to find reply 
 
 Mute on the lip, yet struggling to the eye. 
 
 cxxi. 
 
 Far briefer now the way, and open more 
 
 To heaven, than those his whilome steps had won ; 
 
 And sudden, lo ! his galley's brazen prore 
 
 Beams from the greenwood burnished in the sun ; 
 
 Up from the sward his watchful cruisers spring. 
 
 And loud-lipp'd welcome hails the genial King. 
 
 CXXII. 
 
 Now plies the rapid oar, now swells the sail ; 
 
 All day, and deep into the heart of night. 
 Flies the glad bark before the favouring gale ; 
 
 Now Sabra's virgin waters dance in light 
 Under the large full moon, on margents green. 
 Lone with charred wrecks where Saxon fires have been. 
 
 rife 
 
 CXXIII. 
 
 Here furls the sail, here rest awhile the oar. 
 And from the crews the Cvmrians and the maid 
 
 Pass with hushed breath along the mournful shore ; 
 For, where yon groves the gradual hillock shade, 
 
 A convent stood when Arthur left the land. 
 
 God grant the shrine hath 'scap'd the heathen's hand ! 
 
[book XI. 
 
 BOOK XI.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 357 
 
 find, 
 
 le kinj?, — 
 
 id, 
 iring, 
 
 e. 
 
 jps had won j 
 
 re 
 
 [ in the sun ; 
 
 5 spring, 
 
 il King. 
 
 sail; 
 light, 
 
 gale; 
 light 
 s green, 
 \ fires have been. 
 
 CXXIV. 
 
 As onwards wends their way, thro' roofless walls 
 And casement gaps, the ghost-like star-beams peer : 
 
 Welcomed by night and ruin, hollow falls 
 The footstep of a King : — Upon the ear 
 
 The inexpressible hush of murder lay, — 
 
 Wide yawned the doors, and not a watch dog's bay ! 
 
 cxxv. 
 
 They pass the groves, they gain the holt, and, lo, 
 Rests of the sacred pile but one grey tower, 
 
 A fort for luxury in the long-ago 
 
 Of gentile gods, and Rome's voluptuous power. 
 
 But far, on walls yet spared, the moon-beams fell, — 
 
 Far on the golden domes of Carduei. 
 
 cxxvi. 
 
 "Joy," cried the King, "behold, the land lives still !" 
 Then Gawaine pointed, where the lengthening lino 
 
 The Saxon watch-fires from the haunted hill, — 
 Shorn of its forest old, — their blood-red shine 
 
 Fling over Isca, and the wrathful flush 
 
 Gild the vast storm-cloud of the armed hush. 
 
 m 
 
 V, .'f 
 
 
 CXXVII. 
 
 e oar, 
 
 ,nd the maid 
 furnful shore ; 
 lillock shade, 
 
 land. 
 
 heathen's hand ! 
 
 " Ay," said the King, " in that lulled Massacre 
 Doth no ghost whisper Crida — 'Sleep no more !' 
 
 Hark, where I stand, dark murder-chief, on thee 
 I launch the doom ! ye airs, that wander o'er 
 
 Ruins and graveless bones, to Crida's sleep 
 
 Bear CjTnri's promise, which her king shall keep ! " 
 
 * In 
 
358 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book XI. 
 
 CXXVIII. 
 
 As thus he spoke, upon his outstretched arm 
 A light touch trembled, — turning he beheld 
 
 The maiden of the tomb ; a wild alarm 
 
 Stared from her eyes ; his own their terror spelled. 
 
 Struggling for speech, the pale lips writhed apart. 
 
 And, as she clung, he heard her beating heart ; 
 
 cxxix. 
 
 While Arthur marvelling soothed the agony 
 
 Which, comprehending not, he still could share, 
 
 Sudden sprang Gawaine — hark ! a timorous cry 
 
 Pierced yon dim shadows ! Arthur looked, and where, 
 
 On artful valves revolved the stony door, 
 
 A kneeling nun his knight is bending o'er. 
 
 cxxx. 
 
 Ere the nun's fears the knightly words dispel. 
 As tow'rds the spot the maid and monarch came, 
 
 On Arthur's brow the slanted moon beams fell. 
 And the nun knew the King, and called his name. 
 
 And clasped his knees, and sobbed thro' joyous tears, 
 
 "Once more! once more! our God his people hears !" 
 
 cxxxi. 
 
 Kin to his blood — the welcome face of one 
 
 Known as a saint throughout the Christian land, 
 
 Arthur recalled, and as a pious son 
 
 Honouring a mother — on that sacred hand 
 
 'In homage bowed the King, " What mercy saves 
 
 Thee, blest survivor in this shrine of graves ?" 
 
[book XI. 
 
 BOOK XI.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 359 
 
 )r spelled. 
 
 apart, 
 
 irt; 
 
 d share, 
 
 .8 cry 
 
 ted, and where, 
 
 pel, 
 
 rch came, 
 
 3 fell, 
 
 I his name, 
 
 jyous tears, 
 
 pie hears!" 
 
 le 
 
 itian land. 
 
 Land 
 
 sy saves 
 
 ives?" 
 
 CXXXII. 
 
 Then the nun led them, thro' the artful door 
 Masked in the masonry, adown a stair 
 
 That coiled its windings to the grottoed floor 
 Of vaulted chambers desolately fair ; 
 
 Wrought in the green hill, Uke an Oread's home, 
 
 For summer heats by some soft lord of Rome. 
 
 CXXXIII. 
 
 On shells, which nymphs from silver sands might cull, 
 On paved mosaic, and long-silenced fount. 
 
 On marble waifs of the far Beautiful 
 
 By graceful spoiler garnered from the mount 
 
 Of vocal Delphi, or the Elean town. 
 
 Or Sparta's rival of the violet-crown — 
 
 cxxxiv. 
 
 Shone the rude cresset from the homely shrino 
 Of that new Power, upon whose Syrian Cross 
 
 Perished the antique Jove. And the grave sign 
 Of the glad faith (which, for the lovely loss 
 
 Of poet-gods, their own Olympus frees 
 
 To man, — Men's souls the new Uranides — ) 
 
 cxxxv. 
 
 High from the base, on which, of old, reposed 
 Grape-crowned lacchus — spoke the Saving Woe ! 
 
 Within these crypts to prying daylight closed. 
 While o'er them, heaped by the fierce heathen foe, 
 
 Their walls in smouldering ruin strewed the ground, 
 
 Asylum safe the Christian vestals found. 
 
 
 \ \\ 
 
360 
 
 KINO ARTHUR. 
 
 [book XI. 
 
 cxxxvr. 
 
 To peasants, scattered thro' the neighbouring plains, 
 The secret known ; — kind hands with pious care 
 
 Supply such humble nurture as sustains 
 Lives most with fast familiar ; thus and there 
 
 The patient sisters in their faith sublime, 
 
 Felt God was good, and waited for His time. 
 
 CXXXVII. 
 
 Yet ever, when the crimes of earth and day 
 Slept in the starry peace, to the lone tower 
 
 The sainted Abbess won her nightly way. 
 And gazed on Carduel ! — 'T was the wonted hour 
 
 When from the opening door the Cymrian knight 
 
 Saw the pale shadow steal along the light. 
 
 CXXXVIII. 
 
 Musing, the King the safe retreat surveyed, 
 And smoothed his brow from the time's urgent care ; 
 
 Here — from the strife secure, might rest the maid 
 Not meet the tasks which morn musi bring, to sliare ; 
 
 And pleased the Mother's pitying looks he eyed 
 
 Bent on the young form creeping to her side. 
 
 cxxxix. 
 
 " King," said the Abbess, "from some distant clime 
 Comes this fair stranger, that her eyes alone 
 
 Answer our mountain tongue 1" — " May happier time," 
 Replied the King, "her tale, her land, make known. 
 
 Meanwhile, kind recluse, receive the guest 
 
 To whom these altars seem the native rest." 
 
[book XI. 
 
 BOOK XI.] 
 
 KING AnmuR. 
 
 361 
 
 ring plains, 
 [)ious care 
 
 d there 
 
 I 
 ime. 
 
 day 
 iower 
 
 vonted hour 
 an knight 
 ht. 
 
 yed, 
 
 e's urgent care ; 
 
 the maid 
 
 bring, to share ; 
 
 he eyed 
 
 side. 
 
 distant clime 
 es alone 
 
 y happier time," 
 J, make known, 
 guest 
 rest." 
 
 CXL. 
 
 The Mother smiled, "In sooth those looks," she said, 
 " Do speak a soul pure with celestial air ; 
 
 And in the morrow's awful hour of dread. 
 Her heart methinks will echo to our prayer, 
 
 And breathe responsive to the hymns that swell 
 
 The Christian's curse upon the Infidel. 
 
 CXLI. 
 
 " But say, if truth, from rumour vague and wild, 
 To this still world the friendly peasants bring, 
 
 * That grief and wrath for some lost heathen child, 
 Urge to yon walls the Mercians' direful king V " — 
 
 " Nay," said the Cymrian, "doth ambition fail — 
 
 When force needs falsehood; of the glozing tale 1 
 
 CXLII. 
 
 " And — ^but behold the stranger faints, outworn 
 By the long wandering and the scorch of day ! " 
 
 Pale as a lily when the dewless morn, 
 Parched in the fiery dog-star, wanes away 
 
 Into the glare of noon without a cloud, 
 
 O'er the nun's breast that flower of beauty bowed. 
 
 CXLIII. 
 
 Yet still the clasp retained the h»nd that prest, 
 
 And breath came still, tho' heaved in sobbing sighs. 
 
 " Leave her," the Mother said, " to needful rest. 
 And to such care as woman best supplies ; 
 
 And may this charge a conqueror soon recall. 
 
 And change the refuge to a monarch's hall !" 
 
 ii 
 
 V <\ 
 
 ('- i ■ 
 
 l: 
 
 ii. 
 
 
362 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book XI. 
 
 
 «l: 
 
 w \ 
 
 CXLIV. 
 
 The' found the asylum sought, with boding mind 
 The crowning guerdon of his mystic toil 
 
 To the kind nun the unwilling King resigned ; 
 Nor till his step was on his mountain soil 
 
 Did his large heart its lion calm regain, 
 
 And o'er his soul no thought but Cymri reign. 
 
 CXLV. 
 
 As tow'rds the bark the friends resume their way, 
 Quick they resolve the conflict's hardy scheme ; 
 
 With half the Northmr a at the break of day 
 
 Shall Gawaine sail where Sabra's broadening stream 
 
 Admits a reeded creek ; and, landing there, 
 
 Elude the fleet the neighbouring waters bear ; 
 
 CXLVI. 
 
 Thro* secret paths with bush and bosk o'ergrown. 
 Wind round the tented hill, and win the wall ; 
 
 With Arthur's name arouse the leaguered town, 
 Give its pent stream the cataract's rushing fall, 
 
 And launch, where Crida hath encamped his horde, 
 
 All who in Carduel yet survive the sword. 
 
 CXLVII. 
 
 Meanwhile on foot the king shall guide his baud 
 Round to the rearward of the vast array, 
 
 Where yet large fragments of the forest stand 
 To shroud with darkness the avenger's way ; — 
 
 Thence, when least looked for, burst upon the foe. 
 
 Oil war's own heart direct the sudden blow ; 
 
[book XI. 
 
 BOOK XI.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR, 
 
 303 
 
 ig miiul 
 il 
 
 reign. 
 
 heir way, 
 ' scheme ; 
 f day 
 idening stream 
 
 ere, 
 bear ; 
 
 yergrown, 
 the wall ; 
 d town, 
 ishing fall, 
 d his horde, 
 )rd. 
 
 3 his baud 
 jray, 
 3t stand 
 r's way ; — 
 pon the foe, 
 blow; 
 
 CXLVIII. 
 
 Thus, front and rear assailed, their numbers, less 
 (Perplexed, distraught,) avail the heathen's power. 
 
 Dire were the odds : the chances of success 
 Lay in the accurate seizure of the hour ; 
 
 The high-souled rashness of the bold emprize ; 
 
 The fear that smites the fiercest in surprize ; 
 
 CXLIX. 
 
 Whatever worth the enchanted boons may bear ; 
 
 The hero heart by which those boons were won ; 
 The stubborn strength of that supreme despair, 
 
 When victory lost is a whole realm undone ; 
 In the man's cause, and in the Christian zeal ; 
 And the just God who sanctions Freedom's steel. 
 
 CL. 
 
 Meanwhile, along a cavelike corridor 
 
 The stranger guest the gentle Abbess led ; 
 
 Where the voluptuous hypocaust of yore 
 Left cells for vestal dreams saint-hallowed. 
 
 Her own, austerely rude, affords the rest 
 
 To which her parting kiss consigns the guest. 
 
 CLI. 
 
 But welcome not for rest that loneliness ! 
 
 The iron lamp the imaged cross displays, 
 And to that guide for souls, what mute distreis 
 
 Lifts the imploring passion of its gaze % 
 Fear like remorse — and sorrow dark as sin ? 
 Enter that mystic heart and look within ! 
 
 I 
 
 
 lh' 
 
 ! ;ir 
 
 
 r 
 
 
364 
 
 KING AUTIimi 
 
 [book XI. 
 
 OLII. 
 
 What broken gleams of memory come and go 
 
 Along the dark ! — a silent starry love 
 Lighting young Fancy's virgin waves below, 
 
 But shed from thoughts that rest ensphered above ! 
 Oh, flowers whose bloom had perfumed Carmel, weave 
 Wreaths for such love as lived in Genevieve ! 
 
 OLIII. 
 
 A May noon resteth on the forest hill ; 
 
 A May noon resteth over ruins hoar ; 
 A maiden muses on the forest hill, 
 
 A tomb's vast pile o'crshades the ruins hoar, 
 With doors now open to each prying blast, 
 Where once to rot imperial dust had past ; 
 
 CLIV. 
 
 Glides thro' that tomb of Eld the musing maid, 
 And slumber drags her down its airy deep. 
 
 wondrous trance ! in druid robes arrayed. 
 What form benignant charms the life-like sleep ] 
 
 What spells low-chaunted, holy-sweet, like prayer, 
 
 Plume the light soul, and waft it through the air ? 
 
 CLV. 
 
 Comes a dim sense as of an angel's being, 
 Bathed in ambrosial dews and liquid day ; 
 
 Of floating wings, like heavenward instincts, freeing 
 Thro' azure solitudes a spirit's way, — 
 
 An absence of all earthly thought, desire, 
 
 Aim — hope, — save those which love and which aspire ; 
 
[book XI. 
 
 BOOK XI.] 
 
 KING AltTllUn. 
 
 365 
 
 a go 
 
 )W, 
 
 liered above ! 
 ;jarmcl, weave 
 eve ! 
 
 s hoar, 
 ist, 
 st ; 
 
 ig maid, 
 
 deep. 
 
 yed, 
 
 ike sleep 1 
 to prayer, 
 
 h the air 1 
 
 day; 
 
 incts, freeing 
 
 d which aspire ; 
 
 CLVI. 
 
 Each harder sense of the mere human mind 
 Merged into some protective prescience ; 
 
 Calm gladness, concious of a charge consigned 
 To the pure ward of guardian innocence ; 
 
 And the felt presence, in that charge, of one 
 
 Whoso smile to life is as to flowers the sun. 
 
 CLVII. 
 
 Go on, thou troubled Memory, wander on ! 
 
 Dull, o'er the bounds of the departing trance. 
 Droops the lithe wing the airier life hath known ; 
 
 Yet on the confines of the dream, the glance 
 Sees — where before he stood, the Enchanter stand. 
 Bends the vast brow, and stretch the shadowy hand. 
 
 CLVIII. 
 
 And, human sense reviving, on the ear 
 Fall words ambiguous, now with happy hours 
 
 And plighted love, — and now with threats austere 
 Of demon dangers — of malignant Powers 
 
 Whose force might yet the counter charm unbind, 
 
 If loosed the silence to her lips enjoined. — 
 
 CLIX. 
 
 Then, as that Imaj^ ^ faded from the verge 
 Of life's renewed horizon — came the day ; 
 
 Yet, ere the vision's last faint gleams submerge 
 Into earth's common light, their parting ray 
 
 On Arthur's brow the faithful memories leave. 
 
 And the Dove's heart still beats in Genevieve 
 
 >: < 
 
 \ 1 ' a 
 
 II 
 
 \-\ 
 
 I 
 
 ifi 
 
36G 
 
 KINO ARTIIUIi. 
 
 [book XI. 
 
 r; 
 
 CLX. 
 
 Still she the proscnco feels, — resumes the guide, 
 Till slowly, slowly waned the prescient power 
 
 Which gave the guardian to the pilgrim's side ; — 
 And only rested, with her human dower 
 
 Of gifts sublime to soothe, but weak to save. 
 
 And blind to warn, — the Daughter of the Grave. 
 
 CLX I. 
 
 Yet the lost dream bequeathed, for evermore. 
 Thoughts that did, like a second nature, make 
 
 Life to that life the Dove had hovered o'er 
 Cling as an instinct, — and for that dear sake 
 
 Danger and Death had found the woman's love 
 
 In realms as near the Angels as the Dove. 
 
 CLXII. 
 
 And now and now is she herself the one 
 To launch the bolt on that beloved life ? 
 
 Shuddering she starts, again she hears the nun 
 Denounce the curse that arms the awful strife ; 
 
 Again her lips the wild cry stifle, — " See 
 
 Crida's lost child, thy country's curse, in me ! " 
 
 CLXIII. 
 
 Or — if along the world of that despair 
 
 Fleet other spectres, — from the ruined steep 
 
 Points the dread arm, and hisses thro' the air 
 The avenger's sentence on her father's sleep ! 
 
 The dead seem rising from the yawning floor, 
 
 And the shrine steams as with a shamble's gore. 
 
[book XI. 
 
 BOOK XI.] 
 
 KINO Aitrnvu. 
 
 367 
 
 . I 
 
 CLXIV. 
 
 guido, 
 i power 
 \ side ; — 
 er 
 
 javc, 
 le Grave. 
 
 more, 
 ro, make 
 >'er 
 
 ar sake 
 n's love 
 ve. 
 
 he nun 
 ful strife ; 
 e 
 In me !" 
 
 d steep 
 ihe air 
 s sleep ! 
 floor, 
 (le's gore. 
 
 Sudden she springs, and, from her veiling hands, 
 Lifts the pale courage of her calmed brow ; 
 
 With upward eyes, and murmuring lips, she stands. 
 Raising to heaven the new-born hope : — and now 
 
 Glides from the cell along the galleried caves, 
 
 Mute as a moonbeam flitting over waves. 
 
 CLXV. 
 
 Now gained the central grot ; now won the stair ; 
 
 The lamp she bore gleamed on the door of stone ; 
 Why halt? what hand detains? — she turned, and there, 
 
 On the nun's serge and brow rebuking, shone 
 The tremulous light ; then fear her lips unchained 
 From that stern silence by the Dream ordained ; 
 
 CLXVI. 
 
 And at those holy feet the Saxon fell 
 Sobbing, "0 stay me not ! rather free 
 
 These steps that fly to s*ave his Carduel ! 
 Throne, altars, life — his life ! In me, in me, 
 
 To these strange shrines, thy saints in mercy bring 
 
 Crida's lost Child ! — Way, way to save thy king !" 
 
 CLXVII. 
 
 Listened the nun ; doubt, joy, and awed amaze 
 Fused in that lambent atmosphere of soul. 
 
 Faith in the wise All-Good ! — so melt the rays 
 Of varying Iris in the lucid whole 
 
 Of light ; " Thy people still to Thee are dear, 
 
 Lord," she murmured, "and Thy hand is here !" 
 
 
 
368 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book XI. 
 
 in 
 
 If I 
 
 CLXVIII. 
 
 " Yes," cried the suppliant, " if my loss deplored, 
 My fate unguest — misled and armed my sire ; 
 
 When to his heart his child shall be restored. 
 Sure, war itself will in the cause expire ! 
 
 Euth come with joy, — and in that happy hour 
 
 Hate drop the steel and Love alone have power 1" 
 
 CLXIX. 
 
 Then the nun took the Saxon to her breast, 
 
 Round the bowed neck she hung her sainted cross. 
 
 And said, "Go forth — O beautiful and blest ' 
 And if my king rebuke me for thy loss. 
 
 Be my reply the gain that loss bestowed, — 
 
 Hearths for his people, altars for his God !" 
 
 CLXX. 
 
 She ceased ; — on secret valves revolved the door ; 
 
 Breathed on the silent hill the dawning air ; 
 One moment paused the steps of Hope, and o'er 
 
 The war's vast slumber looked the soul of Prayer. 
 So halts the bird that from the cage hath flown ; — 
 A light bough rustled, and the Dove was gone. 
 
 Ill 
 
[book XI. 
 
 deplored, 
 ly sire ; 
 ored, 
 re ! 
 
 y hour 
 } power 1" 
 
 sast, 
 
 sainted cross, 
 
 )lest ' 
 
 >ss, 
 i- 
 
 ►dr . 
 
 ' ^1 
 
 Book the lujelfth, 
 
 the door ; 
 ng air ; 
 , and o'er 
 )ul of Prayer, 
 kth flown ; — 
 as gone. 
 
■.■» 
 
 i III 
 
 I ^ 
 
 AKGUMENT. 
 
 Preliminary Stanzas— Seen returr^ to Carduel— a day has passed since the retreat of 
 the Saxons into their encam .lent — The Cymrians take advantage of the enemy's in- 
 activity to introduce supplies into the famished city — Watch all that day, and far into 
 the following night, is kept round the corpse of Caradoc— Before dawn, the burial takes 
 place— The Prophet by the grave of the Bard— Merlin's address to the Cymrians, whom 
 he dismisses to the walls, in announcing the renewed assault of the Saxons— Merlin then 
 demands a sacrifice from Lancelot— gives commissions to the two sons of Faul the Ale- 
 man, and to Faul himself— The scene changes to the Temple Fortress of the Saxons — 
 The superstitious panic of the heathen hosts at their late defeat — The magic divinations 
 uf the Runic priests — The magnetic trance of the chosen Soothsayer— The Oracle he 
 utters — Ht demands the blood of a Christian maid— The pause of the priests and the 
 pagan king— The abrupt entrance of Genevieve— Crida's joy— The priests demand the 
 Victim— Genevieve's Christian faith is evinced by the Cross which the Nun had hung 
 round her neck— Crida's reply to the priests— They dismiss one of their number to in- 
 flame the army, and so insure the sacrifice — The priests lead the Victim to the Altar, 
 and begin their hymn, as the Soothsayer wakes from his trance— The interruption and 
 the compact— Crida goes from the temple to the summit of the tower without — The in- 
 vading march of the Saxon troops under Harold described — The light from the Dragon 
 Keep— The Saxons scale the walls, and disappear within the town— The irruption of 
 flames from the fleet — The dismay of that part of the army that had remained in the camp 
 — The flames are seen by the rest of the heathen army in the streets of Carduel — The 
 approach of the Northmen under Gawaine — ^Tlic light on the Dragon Keep changes its 
 hue into blood-red, and the Prophet appears on the height of the Tower— The retreat 
 of the Saxons from the city— The joy of the Chief Priest— The time demanded by the 
 compact has expired— He summons Crida to complete the sacrifice— Crida's answer— 
 The Priest rushes back into the Temple— The offering is bound to the Altar— Faul ! the 
 gleam of the enchanted glaive— The appearance of Arthur— The War takes its last stand 
 within the heathen temple— Crida and the Teuton kings— Arthur meets Crida hand to 
 liand — Meanwhile Harold saves the Gonfanon, and follows the bands under his lead to 
 the river side — He addresses them, re-forms their ranks, and leads them to the brow of 
 the hill— His embassy to Arthur— The various groups in the heathen temple described 
 — Harold's speech — Arthur's reply— Merlin's prophetic addresses to the chiefs of the 
 two races— The End. 
 
tssed since the retreat of 
 tage of the enemy's in- 
 Ul that day, and tar Into 
 e dawn, the burial takes 
 I to the Cymrians, whom 
 the Saxons-Merlin then 
 iwo sons of Faul the Ale- 
 fortress of the Saxons— 
 it-The magic divinations 
 3thsayer-The Oracle he 
 use of the priests and the 
 -The priests demand the 
 which the Nun had hung 
 te of their number to In- 
 d the Victim to the Altar, 
 Ice— The interruption and 
 10 tower without— The in- " 
 he light from the Dragon 
 le town-The irruption of 
 had remained in the camp 
 le streets of Carduel— The 
 Dragon Keep changes its 
 |of the Tower— The retreat 
 le time demanded by the 
 [sacrifice— Crida's answer- 
 td to the Altar-Faul ! the 
 Che War takes its last stand 
 ihur meets Crida hand to 
 ;he bands under his lead to 
 leads them to the brow of 
 , heathen temple described 
 •esses to the chiefs of the 
 
 Book Cuielue. 
 
 ■ 
 
 LOW on, flow on, fair Fable's happy stream. 
 Vocal for aye with Eld's first music-chaimt, 
 Where, miiTored far adown the crystal, gleam 
 
 The golden domes of Carduel and Romaunt ; 
 Still one last look on Knighthood's peerless ring ; — 
 On moonlit Dream-land and the Dragon King ! — 
 
 n. 
 
 Detain me yet among the lovely throng 
 
 Of forms ideal, thou melodious spell ! 
 Still, to the circle of enchanted song. 
 
 Charm the high Mage of Druid parable ; 
 The Fairy, bard-led from her Caspian Sea, 
 And Genius,* lured from caves in Araby ! 
 
 III. 
 
 Tho' me, less fair if less familiar ways, 
 
 Sought in the paths by earlier steps untrod. 
 
 Allure ; — yet ever, in the enchanted maze. 
 The flowers afar perfume the virgin sod ; 
 
 Do but one leaf in fairy gardens cull. 
 
 And round thee opens all the Beautiful ! 
 
 * Whether or not the Fairy of Great Britain and Ireland be of Celtic or Pictish origin, 
 in the rude shape she assumes in the simplest legends ; — so soon as she appears in the 
 romancd o:( that later period in which Arthur was the popular hero, she betrays un- 
 eqnlvocal evidence of her Identity with the Persian Peri. The Genius is still more 
 obviously the creation of the East. 
 
 5 ■ 
 
 ' "1 
 
 
 ■ n 
 
 i i'i 
 
 ' lii 
 
 m 
 
 Mi 
 
 '1 : 
 
 \\ 
 
'il 
 
 I 
 
 II : 'i 
 
 P; :l! 'li: 
 
 j72 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book XII. 
 
 IV, 
 
 Alas ! the sunsets of our Northern main 
 Soon lose the tints Hesperian Fancy weaves ; 
 
 Soon the sweet river feels the icy chain. 
 And haunted forests shed their murmurous leaves j 
 
 The bough must wither, and the bird depart, 
 
 And winter freeze the world — as life the heart 1 
 
 V. 
 
 A day had passed since first the Saxons fled 
 Before the Christian, and their war lay still ; 
 
 From morn to eve the Cymrian riders spread 
 Where flocks yet graze on some remoter hill, 
 
 Pale, on the walls, fast-sinking Famine waits. 
 
 When hark, the droves come lowing thro' the gates I 
 
 VI. 
 
 Yet still, the corpse of Caradoc around, 
 All day, and far into the watch of night, 
 
 The grateful victors guard the sacred ground ; 
 But in that hour when all his race of light 
 
 Leave Eos lone in heaven, — earth's hollow breast 
 
 Oped to the dawn-star and the singer's rest. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Now, ere they lowered the corpse, with noiseless tread 
 
 Still as a sudden shadow. Merlin came 
 Thro* the armed crowd ; and paused before the dead, 
 
 And, looking on the face, thrice called the name. 
 Then, hushed, thro' all an awed compassion ran, 
 And all gave way to the old quiet man. 
 
[book Xll. 
 
 BOOK XII.] 
 
 KINO ARTHUR. 
 
 373 
 
 weaves ; 
 
 urous leaves j 
 
 jpart, 
 
 3 heart 1 
 
 VIIT. 
 
 For Cymri knew that of her children none 
 Had, like the singer, loved the lonely sage ; 
 
 All felt, that there a father called a son 
 
 Out from that dreariest void, — bereaved ago ; 
 
 Forgot the dread renown, the mystic art. 
 
 And saw but sacred there — the human heart ! 
 
 fled 
 
 ly still ; 
 ipread 
 ►ter hill, 
 waits, 
 ro' the gates I 
 
 ight, 
 ound ; 
 light 
 
 ,ow breast 
 rest. 
 
 h noiseless tread 
 
 ne 
 
 efore the dead, 
 
 ed the name. 
 
 ission ran, 
 
 1. 
 
 IX. 
 
 And thrice the old man kist the lips that smiled. 
 And thrice he called the name, — then to the grave. 
 
 Hushed as the nurse that bears a sleeping child 
 To its still mother's breast, — the form he gave : 
 
 With tender hand composed the solemn rest. 
 
 And laid the harp upon the silent breast. 
 
 X. 
 
 And then he sate him down, a little space 
 
 From the dark couch, and so, of none took heed : 
 
 But lifting to the twilight skies his face. 
 
 That secret soul which never man could read. 
 
 Far, as the soul it missed, from human breath. 
 
 Rose — where Thought rises when it follows Death ! 
 
 XI. 
 
 And swells and falls in gusts the funeral dirge 
 As hollow falls the mould, or swells the mound ; 
 
 And (Cymri's warlike wont) upon the verge. 
 The orbed shields are placed in rows around ; 
 
 Now o'er the dead, grass waves ; — the rite is done ; 
 
 And a new grave shall greet a rising sun. 
 
 
 11, 
 
 
 I' ■•' 
 
374 
 
 KINO ARTHUll 
 
 [book XII. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Then slowly turned, and calmly moved, the sage. 
 On the Bard's grave his stand the Prophet took. 
 
 High o'er the crowd, in all his pomp of age 
 August, a glory brightened from his look ; 
 
 Hope flashed in eyes illumined from his own, 
 
 Bright, as if there some sure redemption shone. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Thus spoke the Seer : " Hosannah to the brave ; 
 
 Reverence the richest heirlooms of your land ; 
 Reverence the mound of every hero's grave ; 
 
 Reverence the faith which arms the swordless hand ; 
 Reverence the martyr conquering where he bleeds ; 
 And praise no song which prompts not noble deeds ! 
 
 XIV. 
 
 " Cymrians, the sun yon towers will scarcely gild. 
 Ere war will scale them. Here, your task is o'er. 
 
 Your walls your camp, your streets your battle-field ; 
 Each house a fortress ! — One strong effort more 
 
 For God, for Freedom — for your shrines and homes ! 
 
 After the Martyr the Deliverer comes." 
 
 XV. 
 
 He ceased ; and such the reverence of the crowd. 
 No lip presumed to question. Wonder hushed 
 
 Its curious guess, and only Hope aloud 
 
 Spoke in the dauntless shout : each cheek was flushed ; 
 
 Each eye was bright : — each heart beat high ; and all 
 
 Ranged in due ranks, resought the shattered wall : 
 
BOOK XII.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 375 
 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Save only four, whom to that holy spot 
 The Prophet's whisper stayed : — of these, the one 
 
 Of knightly port and arms, was Lancelot ; 
 But in the ruder three, with garments won 
 
 From the wild beast, — long haired, large limbed, agen 
 
 See Rhine's strong sons, the convert Alemen ! 
 
 XVII. 
 
 When these alone remained beside the mound, 
 
 The Prophet drew apart the Paladin, 
 And said, " What time, feud, worse than famine, found 
 
 The Cymrian race, like some lost child of sin 
 That courts, yet cowers from, death ; — serene thro' all 
 The jarring factions of the maddening hall, 
 
 n 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 "Thou didst in vain breathe high rebuke to pride. 
 With words sublimely proud. ' No post the man 
 
 Ennobles ; — man the post ! did He who died 
 To crown in death the end his birth began. 
 
 Assume the sceptre when the cross He braved ? 
 
 Did He wear puq)le in the world He saved ] 
 
 XIX. 
 
 " ' Ye clamour which is worthiest of command, — 
 Place me, whose fathers led the hosts of Gaul, 
 
 Amongst the meanest children of your land ; 
 Let me owe nothing to my fathers, — all 
 
 To such high deeds as raised, ere kings were known, 
 
 The boldest savage to the earliest throne ! ' 
 
 Ft ' 
 
 H Hi 
 
 51 n 
 
376 
 
 KINO ARTHUR. 
 
 [book XI 
 
 xz. 
 
 " But none did heed thee, and in scornful grief 
 Went thy still footsteps from the raging hall, 
 
 Where by the altars of the bright Belief 
 
 That spans this cloud-world when its sun-showers fall, 
 
 She, thine in heaven, at least, assured to be. 
 
 Prayed not for safety but for death with thee. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 " Theie, by the altar, did ye join your hands. 
 And in your vow, scorning malignant Time, 
 
 Ye plighted two immortals ! in those bands 
 Hope still wove flowers, — but earth was not their clime ; 
 
 Then to the breach alone, resigned, consoled. 
 
 Went Gaul's young hero. — Art thou now less bold ? 
 
 XXII. 
 
 " Thy smile replies ! Know, v/hile we speak, the King 
 Is on the march ; each moment that delays 
 
 The foeman, speeds the conqueror on its wing ; 
 If, till the hour is ripe, the Saxon stays 
 
 His rush, then idly wastes it on our wall, 
 
 Not ours the homes that burn, the shrines that fall ! 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 " But that delay vouchsafed not — comes in vain 
 The bright achiever of enchanted powers ; 
 
 He comes a king, — no people but the slain. 
 
 And his throne sinks amidst his crashing towers. 
 
 This is not all ; for him, the morn is rife 
 
 With one dire curse that threatens more tlnm life j — 
 
 
[book XI 
 
 BOOK XII.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 377 
 
 rief 
 mil, 
 
 •showers fall, 
 
 ee. 
 
 ds, 
 
 ne, 
 
 J 
 
 not their clime ; 
 
 d, 
 
 ess bold ] 
 
 ik, the King 
 
 lys 
 
 ing; 
 
 that fall ! 
 
 vain 
 
 l-s; 
 
 g towers, 
 hiin life j — 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 "A curse which, launched, will wither every leaf 
 In victory's crown, chill youth itself to age : 
 
 Here magic fails — for over love and grief 
 There is no glamour in the brazen page. 
 
 Born of the mind, o'er mind extends mine art ; — 
 
 Beyond its circle beat" the human heart ! 
 
 XXV. 
 
 " Delay the hour — save Carduel for thy king ; 
 
 Avert the curse ; from misery save thy brother ! " 
 " Thrice welcome Death," cried Lancelot, " could it l)ring 
 
 The bliss to bless mine Arthur ! As the mother 
 Lives in her child, the planet in the sky. 
 Thought in the soul, in Arthur so live L" 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 " Prepare," the Seer replied. " be firm ! — and yield 
 The maid thou lovest to her Saxon sire." 
 
 Like a man lightning-striken, Lancelot reeled. 
 And as if blinded by intolerant fire. 
 
 Covered his face with his convulsive hand, 
 
 And groaned aloud, " What woe dost thou demand ^ 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 * Yield her ! and wherefore 1 Cruel as thou art ! 
 
 Can Cymri's king or Carduel's destiny 
 Need the lone offering of a loving heart. 
 
 Nothing to kings and states, but all to me ]" 
 " Son," said the prophet. " can the human eye 
 Trace by what wave light quivers from the sky ; 
 
 : ,.! 
 
 ''J 
 
 
 (\ 
 

 i. 
 
 {■'!'..■ 
 
 If' . 
 
 v ' 
 ri 
 
 378 
 
 KING ARTHUR 
 
 [book XII. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 " lixplore some thought whose utterance sliakes the earth 
 
 Along the airy galleries of the brain ; 
 Or can the human judgment gauge the worth 
 
 Of the least link in Fate's harmonious chain ? 
 Here doubt is cowardice — here trust is brave ; 
 Doubt, and desert thy king ; — believe and save." 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Then Lancelot fixed his keen eyes on the sage, 
 
 And said, " Am I the sacrifice, or she ] 
 Risks she no danger from the heathen's rage. 
 
 She, the new Christian ]" — "Danger more with thee 
 Will blazing roofs and trampled altars yield 
 A shelter surer than her father's shield ? 
 
 11 
 
 XXX. 
 
 " If mortal schemes may foil the threatening hour, 
 Thy heart's re'.yard shall crown thii. o honour's test ; 
 
 And the same fates that crush the heathen power 
 Restore the Christian to the conqueror's breast ; 
 
 Yea, the same lights that gild the nuptial shrine 
 
 Of Arthur, shed a beam as blest on thine ! " 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 " I trust and I submit," said Lancelot, 
 With pale firm lip. " Go thou — I dare not — I ! 
 
 Say, if I yield, that I abandon not ; 
 Her form may leave a desert to my eye. 
 
 But here — but here I" — No more his lips could say. 
 
 He smote his bleeding heart, and v/ent his way ! 
 
 
[book XII. 
 
 BOOK XII.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 379 
 
 kes the earth 
 \i 
 
 ave." 
 
 ^ge, 
 
 re with thee 
 I 
 
 iig hour, 
 >nour's test ; 
 . power 
 i breast ; 
 shrine 
 
 »» 
 
 not— I ! 
 
 ;ould say, 
 
 ls way ! 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 The Enchanter, thoughtful, turned, and on tlie grave 
 His look relaxing fell.—" Ah, child, lost child ! 
 
 To thy young life no youth harmonious gave 
 Music ; no love thine exquisite griefs beguiled ; 
 
 Thy soul's deep ocean hid its priceless pearl ; — 
 
 And he is loved, and yet repines ! churl !" 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 And munnuring tlius, he saw below the mound 
 
 The £:toic brows of the stern Alemen, 
 Their gaunt limbs strewn supine along the ground, 
 
 Still as gorged lions couched before the den 
 After the feast ; their life no medium knows 
 Here, headlong conflict, there, inert repose ! 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 " Which of these feet could overtake the roe ? 
 
 Which of these arms could grapple with the bear ?" 
 "My first-born," answered Faul, "outstrips the roe ; 
 
 My youngest crushes in his grasp the bear." 
 " Thou, then, the swift one, gird thy loins, and rise ; 
 See o'er the lowland where the vapour lies, 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 " Far to the right, a mist from Sabra's wave ; 
 
 Amidst that haze explore a creek rush grown, 
 Screened from the waters less remote, which lave 
 
 The Saxon's anchored barks, and near a lone 
 Grey crag where bitterns boom ; within that creek 
 Gleams thro* green boughs a galley's brazen peak ; 
 
 si 
 
 :r 
 
 
380 
 
 KINO ARTHUR. 
 
 [book XII. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 " This gained, demand the chief, a Christian knight, 
 The bear's rough mantle o'er his rusted mail ; 
 
 Tell him from me, to tarry till a light 
 
 Burst from the Dragon keep ; — then crowd his sail, 
 
 Fire his own ship — and, blazing to the bay, 
 
 Cleave thro* yon fleet his red destroying way ; 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 " No arduous feat : tlie galleys are unmanned. 
 Moored each to each ; let fire consume them all ! 
 
 Then, the shore won, lead hitherwards the band 
 Between the Saxon camp and Cymrian wall. 
 
 What next behoves, the time itself will show. 
 
 Here counsel ceases ; — there, ye find the foe !" 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 Heard the wild youth, and no reply made he, 
 
 But braced his belt and griped his spear, and straight 
 
 As the bird flies, he flew. " My son, to thee," 
 Next said the Prophet, " a more urgent fate 
 
 And a more perilous duty are consigned ; 
 
 Mark, the strong arm requires the watchful mind. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 " Thou hast to pass the Saxon sentinels ; 
 
 Thou hast to thread toe Saxon hosts alone ; 
 Many are there whom 5fiy far Rhine expels 
 
 His swarming war-Iiive, — and their tongue thine own ; 
 Take from yon Teuton dead the mailed disguise, 
 Thy speech shall dupe their ears, thy garb their eyes ; 
 
 " -^'fir 
 
[book XII. 
 
 BOOK XII.] 
 
 KINO ARTHUn. 
 
 381 
 
 XL. 
 
 \\ knight, 
 nail; 
 
 wd his sail, 
 
 r 
 ) 
 
 ay; 
 
 ned, 
 
 bhem all ! 
 e band 
 wall, 
 how, 
 foe !" 
 
 )he, 
 
 ir, and straight 
 
 thee," 
 it fate 
 
 ful mind. 
 
 done ; 
 
 )els 
 
 ngue thine own 
 
 disguise, 
 
 ,rb their eyes ; 
 
 "The watch-pass * Vingolf* wins thee thro' the van, 
 The rest shall danger to thy sense inspire. 
 
 And that quick light in the hard sloth of man 
 Coiled, till sharp need strike forth the sudden ftre. 
 
 The encampment traversed, where the woods behind 
 
 Slope their green gloom, thy stealthy pathway wind ; 
 
 XLI. 
 
 " Keep to one leftward track, amidst the chase 
 Cleared for the hunter's sport in happier days ; 
 
 Till, scarce a mile from the last tent, a space 
 Clasping grey crommell stones, will close the maze. 
 
 There, in the centre of that Druid ring. 
 
 Armed men will stand around the Cymrian King : — 
 
 XLII. 
 
 " Tell him to set upon the tallest pine 
 Keen watch, and wait, until from Carduel's tower, 
 
 High o'er the wood, a starry light shall shine ; 
 Not tJuit the signal, tho' it nears the hour. 
 
 But when the light shall change its hues, and form 
 
 One orb blood*dyed, as sunsets red with storm 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 " Then, while the foe their camp unguarded leave, 
 And round our walls their tides tempestuous roll, 
 
 To yon wood pile, the Saxon fortress, cleave ; 
 Be Odin's Idol the Deliverer's goal. 
 
 Say to the King, ' In that funeral fane 
 
 Complete thy mission, and thy guide regain ! ' " 
 
 * Vingolf. Literally, "The Abode of Friends ;" the name for the place in which the 
 heavenly goddesses assiemble. 
 
 v: 
 
 I 
 
 v. 
 
 il 
 
382 
 
 KING AllTHUn. 
 
 [book xu. 
 
 m 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 While spoke the seer, the Teuton's garb of mail 
 The son of Faul had donned, and bending now, 
 
 He kist his father's cheek. — " And if I fail," 
 He murmured, " kave thy blessing on my brow, 
 
 My father !" Then the convert of the wild 
 
 Looked up to Heaven, and mutely blessed his child. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 " Thou, under flag of Truce," to Faul, then said] 
 The Prophet Sage—" Wilt to Earl Harold's tent 
 
 Conduct his child ; — -and in that mission aid 
 Thine Arthur more than all the warriors lent 
 
 By Rhine or Baltic to his hour of need — 
 
 Or, if thou fail, leave him forlorn indeed. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 " Scarcely will Harold have embraced his child 
 Ere both will hasten to the Heathen fane 
 
 About with Christiari blood to be defiled ; 
 Follow, with stealthy steps, the Saxon Thane, 
 
 Midst the fierce passions and the motley throng 
 
 Unheeded, glide the impious floors along ; 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 " And, safely screened the Idol God behmd, 
 Keep watch, with unseen hand on secret dart. 
 
 Till, when for sacrifice the butchers bind 
 
 The victim, — do as tells thee thine own heart. 
 
 Be patient, wary, not in vain be brave ; 
 
 And when thou strikesb, only strike to save." 
 
♦ ill 
 
 ill 
 
 [book Xll. 
 
 mail 
 g now, 
 
 >» 
 
 y brow, 
 
 a 
 
 his chilu. 
 
 1 said] 
 ►Id's tent 
 id 
 3 lent 
 
 BOOK XII.] 
 
 KING ARTUUn. 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 To Crida's camp the swift song rushing flies ; 
 
 Round Odin's shrine wild priests, rune-muttering, 
 Task the weird omens hateful to the skies ; 
 
 Pale by the idol stands the grey-haired king ; 
 And, from without, the unquiet armament 
 Booms, in hoarse surge, its chafing discontent. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 For in defeat — when first that multitude 
 
 Shrunk from a foe, and fled the Cymrian sword,— 
 
 The pride of man the wrath of gods had viewed ; 
 Religious horror smote the palsied horde ; 
 
 The field refused, till priest, and seid, and charm, 
 
 Explore the off'ence, and wrath divine disarm. 
 
 383 
 
 Iff 
 
 I! 
 
 m 
 
 child 
 He 
 
 Thane, 
 hrong 
 
 nd, 
 et dart, 
 
 n heart* 
 ave/' 
 
 All day, all night, glared fires, dark-red and dull 
 With mystic gums, before the Teuton god. 
 
 And waved o'er runes which Mimer's trunkless skull 
 Had whispered Odin — the Diviner's rod ; 
 
 And rank with herbs which baleful odours breathed, 
 
 The bubbling hell juice in the caldron seethed. 
 
 LI. 
 
 Now tow'rds that hour when into coverts dank 
 Slinks back the wolf ; when to her callow brood 
 
 Veers, thro' still boughs, the owl ; when from the bank 
 The glow-worm wanes ; when heaviest droops the wood, 
 
 Ere the faint twitter of the earliest lark, — 
 
 Ere dawn creeps chill and timorous thro' the dark ; 
 
 1^:1 
 
 (t 
 
384 
 
 ■t 
 
 Kim ARTHUR. 
 
 [book XII. 
 
 LII. 
 
 About that hour, of all the dreariest, 
 
 A flame leaps up from the dull fire's repose. 
 
 And shoots weird sparks along the runes, imprest 
 On stone and elm-bark, ranged in ninefold rows ; 
 
 The purpeling seid the vine's deep flush assumes, 
 
 And the strong venom coils in maddening fumes. 
 
 LIII. 
 
 Pale grew the elect Diviner's haggard brows ; 
 
 Swelled the large veins, and writhed the foaming lip 
 And as some swart and fateful planet grows 
 
 Athwart the disk to which it brings eclipse ; 
 So that strange Pythian madness whose control 
 Seems half to light and half efface the soul. 
 
 
 LIV. 
 
 Broke from the horror of his glaring look ; 
 
 His breath that died in hollow gusts away ; 
 Seized by the grasp of unseen tempests, shook 
 
 To its rackt base the spirit^house of clay ; 
 Till the dark Power made firm the crushing spell ; 
 And from the man burst forth the voice of hell. 
 
 
 LV. 
 
 " The god — the god ! lo, on his throne he reels ! 
 
 Under his knit brows glow his wrathful eyes ! 
 At his dread feet a spectral Valkyr kneels. 
 
 And shrouds her face ! And cloud is in the skies, 
 And neither sun nor star, nor day nor night, 
 But in the sky a steadfast Cross of Light I 
 
[book XII. 
 
 BOOK XII. 1 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 385 
 
 pose, 
 , imprest 
 fold rows ; 
 assumes, 
 g fumes. 
 
 ows J 
 
 ;he foaming lips j 
 ows 
 clipse ; 
 control 
 joul, 
 
 ok; 
 iway ; 
 , shook 
 lay; 
 
 hing spell ; 
 e of hell. 
 
 he reels ! 
 iful eyes ! 
 eels, 
 
 Ls in the skies, 
 night, 
 cht! 
 
 LVI. 
 
 " The god — the god ! hide, hide me from Iiis gaze ! 
 
 Its awful anger burns into the brain ! 
 Spare me, O spare me ! Speak, thy child obeys ! 
 
 What rites appease thee. Father of the Slain ? * 
 What direful omen do these signs foreshow 1 
 What victim ask'st thou ? Speak ; the blood sliall flow ! " 
 
 LVII. 
 
 Sunk the Possest One — writhing with wild throes ; 
 
 And one appalling silence dusked the place. 
 As with a demon's wing. Anon, arose. 
 
 Calm as a ghost, the soothsayer : form and face 
 Rigid with iron sleep ; and hollow fell 
 From stonelike lips the hateful oracle. 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 " A cloud, where Nomas nurse the thunder, lowers, 
 
 A curse is cleaving to the Teuton race ; 
 Before the Cross the striken Valkyr cowers ; 
 
 The Herr-god trembles on his columned base ; 
 A virgin's loss aroused the Teuton strife ; 
 A virgin's love hath charmed the Avenger's life ; 
 
 LIX. 
 
 " A virgin's blood alone averts the doom ; 
 
 Revives the Valkyr, and preserves the god. 
 Whet the quick steel — she comes, she comes, for whom 
 
 The runes glowed blood-red to the soothsayer's rod ! 
 O king, whose wrath the Odin-born arrayed, 
 Regain the lost, and yield the Christian maid !" 
 
 * Father of the Slain, Valfader.— Odin. 
 Z 
 
 s-^ i 
 
 ♦r- 
 
 ■ '1 
 
 \ 
 
38G 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book XII. 
 
 LX. 
 
 As if that voice had quickened some dead thing 
 To give it utterance, so, when ceased the sound, 
 
 The dull eye fixed, and the. faint shuddering 
 
 Stirred all the frame ; then sudden on the ground 
 
 Fell heavily the lumpish inert clay, 
 
 From which the demon noiseless rushed away. 
 
 I 
 
 I t i 
 
 LXI. 
 
 Then the grey priest and the grey king crept near 
 The corpselike man ; and sit them mutely down 
 
 In the still fire*s red vapourous atmosphere ; 
 The bubbling caldron sings and simmers on ; 
 
 And thro' the reeks that from the poison rise, 
 
 Looks the wolf's blood-lust from those cruel eyes. 
 
 LXII. 
 
 So sat they, musing fell ; — when hark, a shout 
 Rang loud from rank to rank, re-echoing deep ; 
 
 Hark to the tramp of multitudes without ; 
 
 Near and more near the thickening tumults sweep ; 
 
 King Crida wrathful rose ; " What steps profane 
 
 Thy secret thresholds, Father of the Slain ?" 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 Frowning he strode along the lurid floors, 
 
 And loud, and loud the invading footsteps ring ; 
 
 His hand impetuous flings apart the doors : — 
 "Who dare insult the god, and brave the king'?" 
 
 Swift thro' the throng a bright-haired vision came ; 
 
 Those stern lips falter with a daughter's name. 
 
BOOK XII. 3 
 
 KING ARTHUR 
 
 387 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 Those hands upUfted, or to curse or smite, 
 
 Fold o'er a daughter's head their tremulous joy ! 
 
 Oh, to the natural worship of delight. 
 
 How came the monstrous dogma — to destroy % 
 
 Sure, Heaven foreshowed its gospel to the wild 
 
 In earth's first bond — the father and the child ! 
 
 LXV. 
 
 While words yet failed the bliss of that embrace, 
 The muttering priests, unmoved, each other eyed ; 
 
 Then to the threshold came their measured pace : — 
 " Depart, Profane," their Pagan pontiff cried, 
 
 " Depart, Profane, too near your steps have trod 
 
 To altars darkened with an angry God. 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 " Dire are the omens ! Skulda rides the clouds. 
 Her sisters tremble * at the Urdar spring ; 
 
 The hour demands us — shun the veil that shrouds 
 The priests, the god, the victim, and the king," 
 
 Shuddering, the crowds retreat, and whispering low, 
 
 Spread the contagious terrors where they go. 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 Then the stern Elders came to Crida's side, 
 
 And from their lockt embrace unclasped his hands : 
 
 "Lo," said their chieftain, "how the gods provide 
 Themselves the offering which the slirine demands ! 
 
 By Odin's son be Odin's voice obeyed ; 
 
 The lost is found — behold, and yield the maid !" 
 
 * "Her sifters tremble," &c., Jiat is, the other two Fat«s (The Present and Pwt) 
 trdtnblc at th c Well of Life. 
 
'I' 
 
 388 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 I', I 
 
 [book XII. 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 As when some hermit saint, in the old day 
 
 Of the soul's giant war with Solitude, 
 From some bright dream which rapt his life away 
 
 Amidst the spheres — unclosed his eyes, and viewed 
 'Twixt sleep and waking, vaguely horrible, 
 The grisly tempter of the gothic hell ; 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 So, on the father's bliss abruptly broke 
 The dreadful memory of his dismal god ; 
 
 And his eyes pleading ere his terror spoke. 
 
 Looked round the brows of that foul brotherhood. 
 
 Then his big voice came weak and strangely mild, 
 
 " What mean those words 1 — why glare ye on my child ] 
 
 LXX. 
 
 " Do ye not know her ? Elders, she is mine, — 
 My flesh, my blood, mine age's youngest born ! 
 
 Why are ye mute ? W^hy point to yonder shrine 1 
 Ay," — and here, haughty with the joy of scorn, 
 
 He raised his front. — " Ay, he the voice obeyed ! 
 
 Priests, ye forget, — it was a Christian maid !" 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 He ceased, and laughed aloud, as humbled fell 
 Those greedy looks, and mutteringly replied 
 
 Faint voices, "True, so said the Oracle !" 
 When the arch Elder, with an eager stride 
 
 Reached the child and sire, and cried, "See Crida, there. 
 
 On the maid's breast the cross that Christians wear ! " 
 
 if i 
 
BOOK XII.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 389 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 Those looks, those voices, thrilled thro' Genevieve, 
 With fears as yet vague, shapeless, undefined ; 
 
 "Father," she murmured, "Father, let us leave 
 These dismal precincts ; how those eyes unkind 
 
 Freeze to my soul ; sweet father, let us go ; 
 
 My heart to thine would speak ! why frown'st thou so ]" 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 •' Tear from thy breast that sign, unhappy one ! 
 
 Sign to thy country's wrathful gods accurst ! 
 Back, priests of Odin, I am Odin's son. 
 
 And she my daughter ; in my war-shield nurst. 
 Reared at your altars ! Trample down the sign, 
 O child, and say — the Saxon's God is mine !" 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 Infant, who came to bid a war relent, 
 
 And rob ambition of its carnage-prize 
 Is it on the>3 those sombre brows are bent. 
 
 For thee the death-greed in those ravening eyes. 
 Thy task undone, thy gentle prayer unspoken ? 
 Ay, press the cross : it is the martyr's token ! 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 She prest the cross with one firm faithful hand, 
 
 While one — {timt trembled !) — claspt her father's knees ; 
 
 As clings a wretch, who sinks in sight of land, 
 To reeds swept with him down the whirling seas. 
 
 And murmured, " Pardon ; Him whose agony 
 
 Was earth's salvation, I may not deny ! 
 
 
 fl 
 
 \m 
 
 ■1 ti 
 
 ^ii 
 
 '< ii 
 
 f 11 
 
 ;r 
 
390 
 
 KING ARTHUn. 
 
 [book XII. 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 " Him who gave God the name I give to thee, 
 'Father,'— in Him, in Christ, is my belief!" 
 
 Then Crida turned unto the priests, — " Ye see," 
 SmiHng, he said, " that I have done with grief : 
 
 Behold the victim ! be the God obeyed ! 
 
 The son of Odin dooms the Christian maid !" 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 He said, and from his robe lie wrenched his hand, 
 And, where the gloom was darkest, stalked away. 
 
 But whispering low, still pause the hellish band ; 
 And dread lest Nature yet redeem the prey. 
 
 And deem it wise against such chance to arm 
 
 The priesthood's puissance with the host's alarm ; 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 To bruit abroad the dark oracular threats, 
 From which the Virgin's blood alone can save ; 
 
 Gird with infuriate fears the murtherous nets. 
 And plant an army to secure a grave ; 
 
 The whispers cease — the doors one gleam of day 
 
 Give— and then close; — the blood-hound slings away. 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 Around the victim — where, with wandering hand. 
 Thro' her blind tears, she seems to search thro' space. 
 
 For him who had forsaken, — circling stand 
 The solemn butchers ; calm in every face 
 
 And death in every heart ; till from the belt 
 
 Stretched one lean hand and grasped her where she knelt. 
 
[book 
 
 XII. 
 
 BOOK XII.] 
 
 Kim AimWlL 
 
 391 
 
 lee, 
 ief!" 
 see, 
 II grief : 
 
 \ !" 
 
 lis hand, 
 Iked away. 
 1 band ; 
 prey, 
 arm 
 s alarm ; 
 
 ,s, 
 
 can save ; 
 
 J nets, 
 
 [n of day 
 
 d slings away. 
 
 jring liand, 
 
 earcli thro' space, 
 
 band 
 
 ' face 
 
 le belt 
 
 T where she knelt. 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 And her wild shriek went forth and smote the shrine, 
 Which echoed, shrilling back the sharp despair. 
 
 Thro' the waste gaps between the shafts of pine 
 To the unseen father's ear. Before the glare 
 
 Of the weird fire, the sacrifice they chain 
 
 To stones imprest with nine and shamble-stain. 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 Then wait — for so their formal rites compel — 
 Till from the trance that still his senses seals. 
 
 Awakes the soothsayer of the oracle ; 
 
 At length with tortured spasms, and slowly, steals 
 
 Back the reluctant life — slow as it creeps 
 
 To one hard-rescued from the drowning deeps. 
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 And when from dim, uncertain, swimming eyes 
 The gaunt long fingers put the shaggy hair, 
 
 And on the priests, the shrine, the sacrifice. 
 Dwelt the fixed sternness of the glassy stare, 
 
 Before the god they led the demon man. 
 
 And, circling round the two, their hymn began. 
 
 LXXXIII. 
 
 So rapt in their remorseless ecstacy. 
 
 They did not hear the quick steps at the door. 
 
 Nor that loud knock, nor that impatient cry ; 
 
 Till shook, — till crashed, the portals on the floor, — 
 
 Crashed to the strong hand of the fiery Thane ; 
 
 And Harold's stride came clanging up the fane — 
 
 %\ 
 
392 
 
 KING AUTIIUH. 
 
 [doOK XII. 
 
 L XX XIV. 
 
 But from liis side boiinded a shape as light 
 As forms that glide th;o' Elfheim's limber air ; 
 
 Swift to the shrine— where on those robes of white 
 The gloomy hell-fires scowled their sullen glare, 
 
 Thro' the death-chaunting choir, — Genevra prest, 
 
 And bowed her head upon the victim's breast ; 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 And cried, " With thoe, with thco, to live or die. 
 With thee, my Genevieve !" the Elders raised 
 
 Their hands in wrath, when from as stern an eye 
 And brow erect as theirs, they shrunk amazed — 
 
 And Harold spoke, "Ye priests of Odin, hear! 
 
 Your gods are mine, their » oices I revere. 
 
 LXXXVI. 
 
 " Voices i'l the winds, in groves, in hollow caves. 
 Oracular dream, or runic galdra sought ; 
 
 But ages ere from Don's ancestral waves 
 
 Bach wizard signs the Scythian Odin brought, 
 
 A voice that needs no priesthood's sacred art, 
 
 Some earlier God placed in the human heart. 
 
 LXXXVU. 
 
 " I bow to charms that doom embattled walls ; 
 
 To dreams revealing no unworthy foe ; 
 A warrior's god in Glory's clarion calls. 
 
 Where war-steeds snort, and hurtling standards flow ; 
 But when weak women for strong men must die, 
 My Ma I's proud nature gives your Gods the lie ! 
 
DOUK XII.] 
 
 KING AllTllUlt. 
 
 393 
 
 Lxxxvni. 
 
 "If, — not yon scor by fiiniL'.s antl dreams boguileil, 
 But, Oilin's solf stooil where his itnago stands. 
 
 Against tlie god I would protect my chihl ! 
 
 Ha, Crida! — come! — /Ay cliild in chains! — those hands 
 
 Lifted to smite ! — and thou, whose kingly bann 
 
 Arms nations, — wake, statue, into man ! " 
 
 LXXXIX. 
 
 For from his lair, and to his liegeman's side 
 Had Crida listening strode : When ceased the Thane, 
 
 His voice, comprest and tremulous, replied, — 
 
 "The life thou plead'st for doth these shrines profane. 
 
 In Odin's son a father lives no more ; 
 
 Yon maid adores the God our foes adore." 
 
 xu. 
 
 "And I — and I, stern king !" — Genevra cries, 
 " Her God is mine, and if that faith is crime, 
 
 Be just — and take a twofold sacrifice !" 
 
 " Cease," cried the Thane, — "is this, ye Powers, a time 
 
 For kings and chiefs to lean on idle blades, — 
 
 Our leaders dreamers, and our victims maids ? 
 
 xci. 
 
 " Be varying gods by varying tribes addrest, 
 I scorn no gods whom worthy foes adore ; 
 
 Brave was the arm that humbled Harold's crest, 
 And large the heart that did his child restore. 
 
 To all the valiant, Gladsheim's Halls unclose ;* 
 
 In Heaven the comrades were on Earth the foes. 
 
 * Gladsheim, Heaven; Walhalla, ("the Hall of the Chosen,") did not cxchide brave 
 foes who fell in battle. See note in ApiHsndix. 
 
391 
 
 KING ART nun. 
 
 [dooK XH. 
 
 XCII. 
 
 " And if our Gods arc wrath, wliat wonder, when 
 Tlieir traitor priests creep whispering coward fears ; 
 
 Unnerve the arms and rot the liearts of men, 
 And filch the conquest from victorious spears ? — 
 
 Yes, reverend Elders, one such priest I found. 
 
 And cheered my bandogs on the meaner hound !" 
 
 XCIII. 
 
 " Be dumb, blasphemer," cried the Pontiff seer, 
 " Depart, or dread the vengeance of the shrine : 
 
 Depart, or armies from these floors shall hear 
 How chiefs can mock what nations deem divine ; 
 
 Then, let her Christian faith thy daughter boast. 
 
 And brave the answer of the Teuton host !" 
 
 XL'IV. 
 
 A paler hue shot o'er the hardy fiice 
 
 Of the great Earl, as thus the Elder spoke ; 
 
 But calm he answered, "Summon OdJs race ; 
 On me and mine the Teuton's wrath invoke ! 
 
 Let shuddering fathers learn what priests can dream, 
 
 And warriors judge if I tluir Gods blaspheme ! 
 
 xcv. 
 
 " But peace, and hearken. — To the king I speak : — 
 With mine own lithsmen, and such willing aid 
 
 As Harold's tromps arouse, — yon walls I seek ; 
 Be Cymri's throne the ransom of the maid. 
 
 On Carduel's wall, if Saxon standards wave, 
 
 Let Odin's arms the needless victim save ! 
 
 I 
 
UOUK Xtl.] 
 
 KING AllTIlUn. 
 
 395 
 
 X«.'VI. 
 
 " Gnvnt me till noon to prove what men are wortli, 
 Who serve the War-God l)y the warlike deed ; 
 
 Kefube mo this, Kinp; Crida, and henceforth 
 
 Let chiefs more prized the Mercian armies lead ; 
 
 For I, blunt Harold, join no cause with those 
 
 Who, wolves for vicf-ims, are as hares to foes !" 
 
 Xt.'VII. 
 
 Scornful he ceased, and leaned upon his sword ; 
 
 Whispering, the Priests, and silent, Crida, stood. 
 A living Thor to that barbarian hord<; 
 
 Was the bold Thane, — and ev'n the men of blood 
 Felt Harold's loss amid the host's dismay 
 Would rend the clasp that linked the wild array. 
 
 xrviii. 
 
 At length out spoke the priestly chief, "The gods 
 Endure tlie boasts, to bow the pride, of men ; 
 
 The Well of Wisdom sinks in Hell's abode ; 
 The Lajca shines beside the bauta^t^n,* 
 
 And truth too oft illumes the eyes that scorned 
 
 In the death flash from which in vain it warned. 
 
 I ' 
 
 XCIX. 
 
 " Be the delay the pride of man demands 
 
 Vouchsafed, the nothingness of man to show ! 
 
 The gods unsoftened, march thy futile bands : 
 Till noon we spare the victim ; — seek the foe ! 
 
 But when with equal shadows rest the sun — 
 
 The altar reddens, or the walls are won !" 
 
 * The Scin Losca, or shining corpse, that was seen l)efore the bautastei, or burial-stone 
 of a dead hero, was supjwsed to possess prophetic powers, and to guard the treasures of 
 the grave. 
 
lit. 
 
 39G 
 
 KING AllTHUll 
 
 [book XII. 
 
 c. 
 
 "So be it," the Thane replied, and sternly smiled ; 
 
 Then towards the sister twain, with pitying brow, 
 Whispering he came, — " Fair friend of Harold's child. 
 
 Let our own gods at least be with thee now j 
 Pray that the Asas bless the Teuton strife, 
 AXiA guide the swords that strike for thy sweet life." 
 
 (;i. 
 
 " Alas !" cried Genevieve, "Christ came to save, 
 Not slay : He taught the weakest how to die ; 
 
 For me, for me, a nation glut the grave ! 
 
 That nation Christ's, and — No, the victim // 
 
 Not now for life, my father, sec me kneel, 
 
 But one kind look, — and then, how blunt the steel !" 
 
 CIl. 
 
 And Cidra moved not ! Moist were Harold's eyes ; 
 
 Bending, he whispered in Genevra's ear, 
 " Thy presence is her safety ! Time denies 
 
 All words but these ; —hope in the brave ; revere 
 The gods they serve ; — by acts our faith we test ; 
 The holiest gods are where the men are best." 
 
 cm. 
 
 With this he turned, " Ye priests," he called aloud, 
 " On every head within these walls, I set 
 
 Dread weregeld for the compact ; blood for blood !" 
 Then o'er his brows he closed his bassinet, 
 
 Shook the black terrors of his shadowy plume. 
 
 And his armed stride was los!. tvx.?idst the gloom. — 
 
BOOK XII.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 397 
 
 CIV. 
 
 And still poor Genevieve with mournful eyes 
 Gazed on the father, whose averted brows 
 
 Had more of darkness for her soul than lies 
 Under the lids of death. The murmurous 
 
 Priests circled round her, muttering direful prayer 
 
 By their fierce shrine, and reddened with its glare. 
 
 And still the king stood statue-like apart. 
 With arms beneath his mantle's regal fold, 
 
 Lockt o'er the beatings of his human heart, 
 
 Till, with one bound the human heart controlled 
 
 The Kingly pride ; those arms he tossed on high 
 
 And nature conquered in the Father's cry : 
 
 ovi. 
 
 Over the kneeling form swept his grey hair ; 
 
 On the soft upturned eyes prest his wild kiss ; 
 And then recoiling with a livid stare. 
 
 He faced the priests, and muttered, " Dotage this ! 
 Crida is old, — come — come," and from the ring 
 Beckoned their chief, and went forth tottering. 
 
 cvii. 
 
 Out of the fane, up where the stair of pine 
 
 Wound to the summit of the camp's rough tower, 
 
 King Crida passed. On moving armour shine 
 The healthful beams of the fresh morning hour ; 
 
 He hears the barb's shrill neigh, — the clarion's swell. 
 
 And half his armies march to Carduel. 
 
 f^ii: 
 
 ;■ » 
 
 
!| 
 
 398 
 
 KING ARTHUB. 
 
 [book XII. 
 
 CVIII. 
 
 Far in the van, like Odin's fatal bird 
 
 Winged for its feast, sails Harold's raven plume. 
 Now, from the city's heart a shout is heard. 
 
 Wall, bastion, tower, their steel clad life resume ; 
 Far shout ! faint forms ! yet seem they loud and clear 
 To that strained eyeball and that feverish ear. 
 
 cix. 
 
 But not on hosts that march by Harold's side. 
 
 Gazed the stern priest, who stood with Crida there ; 
 
 On sullen gloomy groupes — discattered v/ide. 
 Grudging the conflict they refused to share. 
 
 Or seated round nide tents and piled spears. 
 
 Circling the mutter of rebellious fears : 
 
 ex. 
 
 Or, near the temple fort, with folded arnis 
 
 On their broad breasts, waiting the deed of blood ; 
 
 On these he gazed — to gloat on the alarms 
 That made him monarch of that multitude ! 
 
 Not one man there had pity in his eye. 
 
 And the priest smiled, — then turned to watch the sky. 
 
 CXI. 
 
 And the sky deepened, and the time rushed on. 
 
 And Crida sees the ladders on the wall ; 
 And dust-clouds gather round his gonfanon ; 
 
 And thro' the dust-clouds glittering, rise and fall 
 The meteor lights of helms, and shields, and glaives ; 
 Up o'er the rampires mount the labouring waves ; 
 
BOOK XII.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 399 
 
 > watch the sky. 
 
 CXII. 
 
 And joyous ring j the Saxon's battle shout ; 
 
 And Cymri's angoi cry wails like despair ; 
 And from the Dragon Keep a light shines out, 
 
 Calm as a single star in tortured air, 
 To whose high peace, aloof from storms, in vain 
 Looks a lost navy from the violent main. 
 
 CXIII. 
 
 Now on the nearest Avail the Pale Horse i-*ands ; 
 
 Now from the wall the Pale Horse lightens down ; 
 And flash and vanish, file on file, the bands 
 
 Into the rent heart of the howling town ; 
 And the Priest paling frowned upon the sun. 
 Though the sky deepened and Ihe time rushed on. 
 
 cxiv. 
 
 When from the camp around the fane, there rose 
 Ineffable cries of worier, wrath and fear, 
 
 With some strange light that scares the sunshine glows 
 O'er Sabra's waves the crimsoned atmosphere, 
 
 And dun from out the widening, widening glare. 
 
 Like Hela's serpents, smoke-reeks wind thro' air. 
 
 ex v. 
 
 Forth looks the king, appalled ; and, where his masts 
 Soar from the verge of the far-forest-land, 
 
 He hears the crackling, as when vernal blasts 
 Shiver Groninga's pines — " Lo, the same hand," 
 
 Cried the fierce priest, " which swayed tlie soothsayer's rod, 
 
 Writes now the last runes oi tliine angry God !" 
 
 I I 
 
If 
 
 * 
 
 r 
 
 i^ 
 
 I * 
 
 400 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book XII. 
 
 C'XVI. 
 
 And here and there, and eddying to and fro, 
 
 Confused, distraught, pale thousands spread tlie plain ; 
 
 Some snatch their arms in haste, and yelling go 
 Where the fleets burn ; some creep around the fane 
 
 Like herds for shelter prone on earth lie some 
 
 Shrieking, " The twilight of the Gods hath come !" 
 
 CXVII. 
 
 And the great glare hath reddened o'er the town, 
 And seems the strife it gildeth to appall ; 
 
 Flock back straggling Saxons, gazing down 
 The lurid valleys from the jagged wall. 
 
 Still as, on Cuthite towers, Chaldsean seers, 
 
 When some red portent flamed into the spheres. 
 
 CXVIII. 
 
 And now from brake and copse — from combe and dell. 
 Gleams break ; — steel flashes ; — helms on helms arise ; 
 
 Faint heard at first, — now near, now thunderous, — swell 
 Cymrian commixed with Baltic battle-cries ; 
 
 And, loud alike in each, — exulting came 
 
 War's noblest music — a Deliverer's name. 
 
 CXIX. 
 
 " Arthur ! — Woe, Saxons ! — Arthur is at hand. !" 
 And while within the city raged tl: . fight, 
 
 On, unresisted, Gawaine leads his band, 
 As Merlin's signal had enjoined the knight. 
 
 And now the beacon on the Dragon keep 
 
 Springs from pale lustre into hues blood-deep. 
 
BOOK XII.] 
 
 KING ARTHUll 
 
 401 
 
 cxx. 
 
 And on that tower stood forth a lonely man ; 
 
 Full on his form the heacon-glory fell ; 
 And joy revived each shrinking Cymrian ; 
 
 There, the still Prophet watched o'er Carduel ! 
 Back o'er the walls, and back thro* gate and breach, 
 Now ebbs the war, like billows from the beach. 
 
 cxxi. 
 
 Along the battlements swift crests arise, 
 Swift followed by avenging, smiting brands, 
 
 And fear and flight are in the Saxon cries ! 
 The portals vomit bands on hurtling bands ; 
 
 And lo, wide streaming o'er the helms, — again 
 
 The Pale Horse flings on angry winds its mane ! 
 
 CXXII. 
 
 And facing still the foe, but backward borne 
 
 By his own men, towers high one kingliest chief ; 
 
 Deep thro' the distance rolls his shout of scorn. 
 And the grand anguish of a hero's grief. 
 
 Bounded the Priest ! — " The Gods are heard at last !- 
 
 Proud Harold flieth ; and the noon is past ! 
 
 CXXIII. 
 
 " Come, Crida, come !" Up as from heavy sleep 
 The grey-haired giant raised his awful head ; 
 
 As, after calmest waters, the swift leap 
 Of the strong torrent rushes to its bed, — 
 
 So the new passion seized and changed the form, 
 
 As if the lull had braced it for the storm. 
 AA 
 
 t 
 
402 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book XII. 
 
 Il ' 
 
 ir 
 
 i-f 
 
 fi 
 
 CXXIV. 
 
 No grief was in the iron of that brow ; 
 
 Age cramped no sinew in that mighty arm ; 
 ** Go," he said, sternly, " where it fits thee, thou : 
 
 Thy post with Odin— mine with Managarm ! * 
 Let priests avert the danger, kings must dare ; 
 My shrine yon Standard, and my Children — there /'' 
 
 C'XXV. 
 
 So from the height he swept — as doth a cloud 
 That brings a tempest when it sinks below ; 
 
 Swift strides a chief amidst the jarring crowd ; 
 Swift in stern ranks the rent disorders grow ; 
 
 Swift, as in sails becalmed swells forth the wind. 
 
 The wide mass quickens with the one strong mind. 
 
 cxxvi. 
 
 Meanwhile the victim, to the Demon vowed, 
 
 Knelt j every thought winged for the Angel goal. 
 
 And ev'n the terror which the form had vowed 
 Seemed but to brace the firmness of the soul. 
 
 Self was forgotten, and the human fear 
 
 Breathed prayer for others to the Eternal Ear. 
 
 CXXVII. 
 
 Up leapt the solemn priests from dull repose : 
 The fires were fanned as vnth. a sudden wind ; 
 
 While shrieking loud, " Hark, hark, the conquering foes I 
 Haste, haste, the victim to the altar bind !" 
 
 Kushed to the shrine the haggard Slaughter-Chief — 
 
 As the strong gusts that whirl the fallen leaf. 
 
 * Manafrarm, the Monster Wolf (symbolically, war). " He will be filled with the 
 4)lood of men who draw near their end," &c. (Prosk £ooa.) 
 
BOOK XII.] 
 
 KING AUmUR. 
 
 403 
 
 CXXVIII. 
 
 r the month when wolves descend, the barbarous hands 
 Phmge on the prey of their delirious wrath, 
 
 Wrenched from Genevra's clasp ; Lo, where she stands, 
 On earth no anchor, — is she less like Faith ? 
 
 Tlie same smile firmly sad, the same calm eye, 
 
 The same meek strength ; — strength to forgive and die I 
 
 CXXIX. 
 
 << 
 
 Hear us, Odin, in this last despair ! 
 
 Hear us, and save !" the Pontiff called aloud ; 
 " By the Child's blood we shed, thy chilaren spare !" 
 
 And the knife glittered o'er the breast that bowed. 
 Dropped blade ; fell priest ! — blood chokes a gurgling groan ; 
 Blood, — blood not Christian, dyes the altar stone ! 
 
 cxxx. 
 
 Deep in the boomer's breast it sank — the dart ; 
 
 As if from Fate it came invisibly ; 
 AVhere is the hand ? — from what dark hush shall start 
 
 Foeman or fiend 1 — no shape appalls the eye, 
 No sound the ear ; — ice-locked each coward breath ; 
 The Power the Deathsman called, hath heard him — Death ! 
 
 cxxxi. 
 
 While yet the stupor stuns the circle there, 
 
 Fierce shrieks — loud feet — come rushing thro' the doors; 
 Women with outstretched arms and tossing hair, 
 
 And flying warriors shake the solemn floors ; 
 Thick as the birds storm-driven on the decks 
 Of some lone ship — the last an ocean \vrecks. 
 
404 
 
 KING ARTHtrn. 
 
 [book ^It. 
 
 CXXXII. 
 
 Bi) 
 
 m 
 
 
 
 And where on tumult, tumult whirled and roared, 
 Came cries, " The fires around us and behind, 
 
 And the last Fire-God and the Flaming Sword !" * 
 And from without, like that destroying wind 
 
 In which the world shall perish, grides and sweeps 
 
 Victory — swift-cleaving thro' the battle-deeps ! — 
 
 CXXXIII. 
 
 Victory, by shouts of terrible rapture known. 
 
 Thro' crashing ranks it drives in iron rr.in ; 
 Borne on the wings of fire it blazes on ; 
 
 It halts its storm before the fortress fane ; 
 And thro* the doors, and thro' the chinks of pine. 
 Flames its red breath upon the paling shrine. 
 
 cxxxiv. 
 
 Roused to their demon courage by the dread 
 
 Of the wild hour, the priests a voice have found ; 
 
 To pious horror show their sacred dead, 
 
 Invoke the vengeance, and explore the ground ; 
 
 When, like the fiend in monkish legends known, 
 
 Sprang a grim image on the altar stone ! 
 
 cxxxv. 
 
 The wolfs hide bristled on the shaggy breast, 
 
 Over the brows, the forest buffalo 
 With horn impending armed the horrid crest, 
 
 From which the swart eye sent its savage glow, 
 Long shall the Saxon dreams that shape recall, 
 And ghastly legends teem with tales of Faul ! t 
 
 * " And tho lut Fire-God and the Flaming: Sword," i. e. Surtur the genius, who 
 dwells in tho region of fire (Huspelheim), whose flaming sword shall vauqiush tho gods 
 themselves in the last day. (Paobb Edda.) 
 
 t tital li ludeed the nam* of one of the malignaut Fewen peculiarly dreaded by the 
 
 
BOOK XII.] 
 
 KINO ARTHUR 
 
 405 
 
 CXXXVI. 
 
 Down from the altar to the victim's side, 
 
 While yet shrunk back the priests— the savage leapt, 
 And with quick steel gashed the strong cords that tied ; 
 
 When round them both the rallying vengeance swept ; 
 Raised every arm ; — O joy ! — the enchanted glaive 
 Shines o'er the threshold ! is there time to save ? 
 
 cxxxvii. 
 
 Whirl's thro' the air a torch, — it flies — it falls 
 Into the centre of the murderous throng ; 
 
 Dread herald of dread steps ! the conscious halls 
 Quake where the falchion flames and fleets along ; 
 
 Thro' crowd on crowd behold the falchion cleave ! — 
 
 The Silver Shield rests over Genevieve ! 
 
 CXXXVIII. 
 
 Bright as the shape that smote the Assyrian, 
 The fulgent splendour from the arms divine 
 
 Paled the hell-fires round (rod's elected Man, 
 And burst like Truth upon the demon shrine. 
 
 Among the thousands stood the Conquering One, 
 
 Still lone, and unresisted as un ! 
 
 CXXXIX. 
 
 Now thro' the doors, commingling side by side, 
 Saxon and Cymrian struggle hand in hand ; 
 
 For there the war, in its fast ebbing tide. 
 
 Flings its last prey — there, Crida takes his stand ; 
 
 There his co-monarchs hail a funeral pyre 
 
 That opes Walhalla from the grave of fire. 
 
 Saxons,— a name that I cannot discover to have been known to the otl;er branches of the 
 Great Teuton Family. 
 
 
40G 
 
 KING Anriiuit. 
 
 [book xri. 
 
 V\L. 
 
 And as ji tigor, swopt ladown a flood 
 
 With moaner beasts, that dyes the howling water 
 Wliich whirls it onward, with a waste of blood ; 
 
 And grii)es a stay with fangs that leave the slaughter,- 
 So where halts Crida, )!;;roans and falls a foe — 
 And deep in goro his stops receding go. 
 
 V 
 
 m 
 
 (JXLI. 
 
 And his largo sword has made in reeking air 
 
 Broad space thro' which, — around the golden ring 
 
 That crownhke chisps the sweep of his grey hair — 
 Shine the tall helms of many a Teuton king, 
 
 Ymrick, mild heir of Hengist's giant race, 
 
 And -^lla ruthless with an angel's face, 
 
 CXLIl. 
 
 Eldrid enthroned o'er Britain's lordliest river, 
 And Sibert, honoured in Northumbrian homes ; 
 
 And many a sire whose stubborn soul for ever 
 
 Shadows the field where England's thunder comes. 
 
 High o'er them all his front grey Crida rears, 
 
 As some old oak whose crest a forest clears : 
 
 CXLIII. 
 
 High o'er them all, that front fierce Arthur sees. 
 And knows the arch invader of the land. 
 
 Swift, thro' the chiefs — swift path his falchion frees ; 
 Corpse falls on corpse before the avenger's hand ; 
 
 For fair-haired -^Ua, (^antia's maids shall wail, 
 
 Hurled o'er the dead, rings Eldrid's crashing mail ; 
 
BOOK XII.] 
 
 KINO ARTIIU: 
 
 407 
 
 CXLIV. 
 
 His followor's armo stunn'd Sibert's might receive, 
 And from the deatli-blow snatch their bleeding lord ; 
 
 And now behold, fearful Genevieve, 
 
 O'er thy doomed father shines the charmed sword ! 
 
 And shaking, as it shone, the glorious blade, 
 
 The hand for very wrath the death delayed. 
 
 CXLV. 
 
 "At last, at last we meet, on Cymri's soil ; 
 
 And foot to foot ! Destroyer of my shrines, 
 And murderer of my people ! Ay, recoil 
 
 Before the doom thy quailing soul divines ! 
 Ay — turn thine eyes,— nor hosts nor flight can save ! 
 Thy foe is Arthur — and these halls thy grave !" 
 
 CXLVI. 
 
 " Flight," laughed the king, whose glance had wandered round. 
 Where thro' the throng had pierced a woman's cry, 
 
 " Flight for a chief, by Saxon warriors crowned, 
 And from a Walloon ! — this is my reply !" 
 
 And, ere completed the last scornful word. 
 
 Upheaved with both hands lightened down his sword : 
 
 CXLVII. 
 
 Full on the gem the iron drives its course. 
 
 And shattering clinks in splinters on the floor ; 
 
 The foot unsteadied by the blow's spent force. 
 Slides on the smoothness of the soil of gore ; 
 
 Gore, quench the blood thirst i guard, soil, the guest ! 
 
 For Freedom's heel is on the Invader's breast. 
 
 
 !r 'I 
 
 ■ft 
 
408 
 
 KINO ARTHUR. 
 
 [book XII. 
 
 ii^^i; 
 
 CXLVIII. 
 
 When, swift beneath the fiasliing of the bhuU>, 
 When, swift before the bosom of the foe, 
 
 She sprang, she came, she knelt, — the guardian maid ! 
 And, startling vengeance from the righteous blow, 
 
 Cried, " Spare, oh spare, this sacred life to me, 
 
 A father's life ! — I would have died for thee !" 
 
 C'XLIX. 
 
 While thus within, the Christian God prevails, 
 
 Without the idol temple, fast and far, 
 Like rolling storm-wrecks, shattered by the gales, 
 
 Fly the dark fragments of the Heathen War, 
 Where, thro' the fires that flash from camp to wave. 
 Escape the land that locks them in its grave 1 
 
 CL. 
 
 When by the Hecla of their burning fleet 
 Dismayed amidst the marts of Carduel, 
 
 The Saxons rushed without the walls to meet 
 The Viking's swords, which their mad terrors swell 
 
 Into a host — assaulted, rear and van. 
 
 Scarce smote the foe before the flight began. 
 
 CLI. 
 
 In vain were Harold's voice, and name, and deeds, 
 Unnerved by omen, priest, and shapeless fear. 
 
 And less by man than their own barbarous creeds 
 Appalled, — a God in every shout they hear, 
 
 And in their blazing barks behold unfurled, 
 
 The wings of Muspell* to consume the world. 
 
 * Musi^ell, Fire ; Muspelheini, the region of Fire, the final destroyer. 
 
BOOK XII.] 
 
 KING ARTIlUn. 
 
 409 
 
 CLII. 
 
 Yot still awhile the heart of the great Thane, 
 And the stout few that gird the gonfanon, 
 
 Build a steel bulwark on the midmost plain, 
 That stems all Cymri, — so Despair fights on. 
 
 When from the camp the new volcanoes spring, 
 
 With sword and fire he comes,— the Dragon King. 
 
 C'LIII. 
 
 Then all, save Harold, shriek to Hope farewell ! 
 
 Melts the last barrier ; through the clearing space. 
 On tow'rds the camp the Cymrian chiefs compel 
 
 Their ardent follower j from the tempting chace ; 
 Thro' Crida's ranks t o Arthur's side they gain, 
 And blend two streams in one resistless main. 
 
 CLIV. 
 
 True to his charge as chief, mid all disdain 
 Of recreant lithsmen— Harold's iron soul 
 
 Sees the storm sweep beyond it o'er the plain ; 
 And lofty duties, yet on earth, controul 
 
 The yearnings for Walhalla : — Where the day 
 
 Paled to the burning ships— he towered away. 
 
 CLV. 
 
 And with him, mournful, drooping, rent and toni. 
 But captive not — the Pale Horse dragged its mane. 
 
 Beside the fire-reflecting waves, forlorn. 
 As ghosts that gaze on Phlegethon — the Thane 
 
 Saw listless leaning o'er the silent coasts. 
 
 The spectral wrecks of what at morn were hosts. 
 
 le final destroyer. 
 
4 
 
 410 
 
 KING ARTHUE. 
 
 tsOOK XII. 
 
 CLVI. 
 
 T.-'ais rushed to burning eyes, and choked awhile 
 The trumpet music of his manly voice, 
 
 At length he spoke : " A.nd are ye then so vile ! 
 A death of straw ! Is that the Teuton's choice 1 
 
 By all our gods, I haii that reddening sky. 
 
 And bless the burning fleets which flight deny ! 
 
 OLVII. 
 
 (i 
 
 Lo, yet the thunder clothes the charger's mane. 
 As when it crested Hengist's helmet crown ! 
 What ye have lost — an hour can yet regain ; 
 
 Life has no path so short as to renown ! 
 Shrunk if your ran!is, — when first on Albion's shore 
 Your sires carved kingdoms, were their numbers more 1 
 
 CLVIII. 
 
 " If not your valour, let y our terrors speak. 
 
 Where fly 1 — \ hat path can lead ye from the foes ? 
 Where hide ? — what cavern will not vengeance seek 1 
 
 What shun ye 1 Death ? — Death smites you in repose ! 
 Back to your king ; from Hela snatch the brave — 
 We best escape, when most we scorn, the grave." 
 
 CLIX. 
 
 Housed by the words, tho' half reluctant still, 
 The listless ranks re-form their slow array. 
 
 Sullen but stern they labour up the hill. 
 
 And gain the brow ! — In smouldering embers lay 
 
 The castled camp, and slanting sunbeams shed 
 
 Light o'er the victors — quiet o'er the dead. 
 
[book XII. 
 
 BOOK XII.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 411 
 
 while 
 
 rile! 
 choice 1 
 
 3ny! 
 mane, 
 
 wa. 
 
 i; 
 
 t 
 
 ion's shore 
 imhers more 1 
 
 k. 
 
 m the foes 1 
 eance seek 1 
 3S you in repose 
 J brave — 
 5 grave." 
 
 ; still, 
 rray, 
 
 embers lay 
 ls shed 
 ad. 
 
 CLX. 
 
 Hushed was the roar of war — the conquered ground 
 Waved mth the glitter of the Cymrian spears ; 
 
 The temple fort the Dragon standard crowned ; 
 And Christian anthems pealed on Pagan ears ; 
 
 The Mercian halts his band — their fronts surveys ; 
 
 No fierce eye kindles to his fiery gaze. 
 
 CLXI. 
 
 One dull, disheartened, but not dastard gloom 
 Clouds every brow, — like men compelled to die. 
 
 Who see no hope that can elude the doom, 
 Prepcared to fall but powerless to defy. 
 
 Not those the ranks, yon ardent hosts to face ! 
 
 The Hour had conquered earth's all-conquering race. 
 
 CLXII. 
 
 The leader pause'^l, and into artful show. 
 Doubling the numbers with extended wing, 
 
 " Here halt," he said, " to yonder hosts I go 
 With terms of peace or war to Cymri's king." 
 
 He turned, and tow'rds the Victor's bright array. 
 
 With tromp and herald, strode his bitter way. 
 
 CLXIII. 
 
 Before the signs to war's sublime belief 
 Sacred the host disparts its hushing wave. 
 
 Moved by ;'he sight of that renowned chief, 
 
 Joy stills the shout that might insult the brave ; 
 
 And princeliest guides the stately foeman bring, 
 
 Where Odin's temple shrines the Christian king. 
 
412 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 [book XII. 
 
 
 m 
 
 CLXIV. 
 
 The North's fierce idol, rolled in pools of blood, 
 Lies crushed before the Cross of Nazareth. 
 
 Crouched on the splintered fragments of their god, 
 Silent as crowds from which the tempest's breath 
 
 Has gone, — the butchers of the priesthood rest. — 
 
 Each heavy brow bent o'er each stony breast. 
 
 CLXV. 
 
 Apart, the guards of Cymri stand around 
 The haught repose of captive Teuton kings ; 
 
 With eyes disdainful of the chains that bound. 
 And fronts superb — as if d'^feat but flings 
 
 A kinglier grandeur over fallen power : — 
 
 So suns shine larger in their setting hour. 
 
 CLXVI. 
 
 From these remote, unchained, unguarded, leant 
 On the gnarled pillar of the fort of pine. 
 
 The Saturn of the Titan armament. 
 
 His looks averted from the altered shrine 
 
 Whence iron Doom the Antiquo Faith has hurled, 
 
 For that new Jove who dawns upon the world. 
 
 CLXVII. 
 
 And one broad hand concealed the monarch's face ; 
 
 And one lay calm on the low-bended head 
 Of the forgiving child, whose young embrace 
 
 Clasped that grey wreck of Empire ! All had fled 
 The heart of pride : — Thrones, hosts, the gods ! yea all 
 That scaled the heaven, strewed Hades with their fall : 
 
[book XII. 
 
 BOOK XII.] 
 
 KING ARTHUn. 
 
 4ia 
 
 CLXVIII. 
 
 blood, 
 eth. 
 
 their god, 
 st's breath 
 d rest. — 
 jast. 
 
 But Natural Love, the household melody. 
 
 Steals through the dearth, — resettling on the breast ; 
 The bird returning with the silenced sky. 
 
 Sings in the ruin, and rebuilds its nest. 
 Home came the Soother that the storm exiled, — 
 And Crida's hand lay calm upon his child. 
 
 I 
 
 kings ; 
 sound, 
 ings 
 
 r. 
 
 "d, leant 
 ne, 
 
 ine 
 
 as hurled, 
 
 world. 
 
 irch's face ', 
 
 head 
 
 brace 
 
 All had fled 
 
 le gods ! yea all 
 
 with their fall : 
 
 CLXIX. 
 
 Beside her sister-saint Genevra kneeleth. 
 Mourning her father's in her Country's woes ; 
 
 And near her, hushing iron footsteps, stealeth 
 The noblest knight the wondrous Table knows, — 
 
 Whispering low comfort into thrilling ears — 
 
 When Harold's plume floats up the flash of spears. 
 
 CLXX. 
 
 But the proud Earl, with warning hand and eye, 
 Eepells the yearning arms, the eager start ; 
 
 Man amidst men, his haughty thoughts deny 
 To foes the triumph o'er his father's heart ; 
 
 Quickly he turned — where shone amidst his ring 
 
 Of subject planets, the Hyperion King. 
 
 CLXXI. 
 
 Tnere Tristan graceful — Agrafayn uncouth. 
 And Owaine comely with the battle-scar, 
 
 And Geraint's lofty age, to venturous youth 
 Glory and guide, as to proud ships a star, 
 
 And Gawaine, sobered to his gravest smile, 
 
 Lean on the spears that lighten through the pile. 
 
414 
 
 KING ARTHUR, 
 
 [book xij. 
 
 \ Wi 
 
 r" 3 
 m 1 
 
 K.i ;■ 
 
 ^•■'1 
 
 KM. p 
 
 CLXXII. 
 
 There stood the stoic Alemen sedate, 
 
 Blocks hewn from man, which love with life inspired ; 
 There, by the Cross, from eyes serene with Fate, 
 
 Looked into space the Mage ; and carnage-tired, 
 On ^gis shields, like Jove's still'd thunders, lay 
 Thine ocean giants, Scandinavia ! 
 
 CLXXIII. 
 
 But lo, the front, where conquest's auriole 
 Shone, as round Genius marching at the van 
 
 Of nations ; — where the victories of the soul 
 Stamped Nature's masterpiece, perfected Man : 
 
 Fair as young Honour's vision of a king 
 
 Fit for bold hearts to serve, free lips to sing ! 
 
 CLXXTV. 
 
 So stood the Christian Prince in Odin's hall. 
 Gathering, in one. Renown's converging rays ; 
 
 But, in the hour of triumph, turn, from all 
 War's victor pomp, his memory and his gaze ; 
 
 Miss that last boon the mission should achieve. 
 
 And rest" where droops the dove-like Genevieve. 
 
 CLXXV, 
 
 Now at the sight of Mercia's haughty lord, 
 A loftier grandeur calms yet more his brow ; 
 
 And leaning lightly on his sheathless sword. 
 Listening he stood, while spoke the Earl : — " I bow 
 
 Not to war's fortune, but the victor's fame ; 
 
 Thine is so large it shields thy foes from shame. 
 
BOOK Zllt] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 415 
 
 CLXXVI. 
 
 " Prepared for battle, proffering peace I come, 
 
 On yonder hills eno' of Saxon steel 
 Kemains, to match the Cymrian Christendom ; 
 
 Not slaves with masters, men with men would deal. 
 Wo cannot leave your land, our chiefs in gyves, — 
 While chains gall Saxons, Saxon war survives. 
 
 CLXXVII. 
 
 " Our kings, our women, and our priests release. 
 And in their name I pledge — no mean return — 
 
 A ransom worthy of both nations — Peace ; 
 
 Peace with the Teuton ! On your hills shall burn 
 
 No more the beacon : on your fields, no more 
 
 The steed of Hengist plunge its hoofs in gore. 
 
 CLXXVIII. 
 
 " Peace while this race remains — our son?, alas. 
 We cannot bind — peace with the Mercian men : 
 
 This is the ransom. Take it, and we pass 
 Friends from a foeman's soil ; reject it, — then 
 
 Firm to this land we cling, as if our own. 
 
 Till the last Saxon falls, or Cymri's throne 1" 
 
 CLXXIX. 
 
 Abrupt upon the audience dies the voice, 
 
 And varying passions stir the murmurous groupes ; 
 
 Here, to the wiser ; there, the haughtier choice : 
 Youth rears its crest ; but age foreboding droops ; 
 
 Chiefs yearn for fame ; the crowds to safety cling ; 
 
 The murmurs hush, and thus replies the King : — 
 
416 
 
 KING AUTHUM. 
 
 [book ICltt 
 
 it I 
 
 CLXXX. 
 
 " Foe, thy proud speech offends no manly ear. 
 
 ,Sp would I speak, could our conditions change. 
 Peace gives no shame, where war has br-^ught no fear j 
 
 We fought for freedom, — we disdain revenge ; 
 The freedom won, no cause for war remains, 
 And loyal Honour binds more fast than chains. 
 
 CLXXXI. 
 
 " The peace thus proffered, with accustomed rites, 
 Hostage and oath, confirm, ye Teuton kings, 
 
 And ye are free ! Where we, the Christians, fight, 
 Our Valkyrs sail with healing on their wings ; 
 
 We shed no blood but for our fatherland. — 
 
 And so, frank soldier, take this soldier's hand." 
 
 CLXXXII. 
 
 Low o'er that conquering hand, the stately foe 
 Bowed the war plumed upon his raven crest ; 
 
 Caught from those kingly words, one generous glow 
 Chased Hate's last twilight from each Cjrmxian breast ; 
 
 Humbled, the captives hear the fetters fall, 
 
 Power's tranquil shadow — Mercy, awes them all. 
 
 CLXXXIII. 
 
 Dark scowl the Priests ; — with vengeance Priestcraft dies i 
 Slow looks, where Pride yet struggles, Crida rears ; 
 
 On Crida's child rest Arthur's soft'ning eyes ; 
 And Crida's child is weeping happy tears ; 
 
 And Lancelot, closer at Gene>Ta's side, 
 
 Pales at the compact that may lose the bride. 
 
BOOK XII.] 
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 41/ 
 
 CLXXXIV. 
 
 When from the altar by the holy rood, 
 
 Come the deep accents of the Cymrian Mage, 
 
 Sublimely bending o'er the multitude 
 Brows on which Thought took more command from age, 
 
 O'er Druid robes the beard's broad silver streams, 
 
 As when the Vision rose on virgin dreams. 
 
 CLXXXV. 
 
 " Hearken, ye, Scythia's and Cimmeria's sons. 
 Whose sires alike by golden rivers dwelt. 
 
 When sate the Asas on their hunter thrones ; 
 When Orient vales rejoiced the shepherd Celt ; 
 
 While Eve's young races towards each ether drawn, 
 
 Roved lingering round the Eden gates of dawn. 
 
 CLXXXVI. 
 
 '' Still the old brother-bond in these new homes. 
 After long woes, shall bind your kindred races ; 
 
 Here, the same God shall find the sacred domes ; 
 And the same land-marks bound your restiig-placcs. 
 
 What time, o'er realms to Heus and Thor unknown. 
 
 Both Celt and Saxon rear their common throne. 
 
 CLXXXVII. 
 
 " Revere the Word which the Invisible Hand 
 Writes on the leaves of kingdom-dooming stars ; 
 
 Thro* Prydain's Isle of Pines, from sea to land. 
 Where yet Rome's eagle leaves the thunder-scars, 
 
 The sceptre sword of Saxon kings shall reach. 
 
 And new-born nations speak the Teuton's 6pccch^ 
 BB 
 
"■^ 
 
 
 418 
 
 KING AUTIIUli. 
 
 [bo >K XII. 
 
 rLXXXVlII. 
 
 "All siive thy mountain onipire, Dragon king I 
 All save thy Cymrian's Ararat — Wild Wales ! * 
 
 H(!re Cymrian bards to fame and God shall sing — 
 Here Cymrian freemen breathe the hardy gales, 
 
 And the same race that Heus the (Juardian led, 
 
 Rise from these graves— when God a^^'akes the dead !" 
 
 
 i!i 
 
 V 1 
 
 ■1 
 
 
 i i 11 
 
 CLXXXIX. 
 
 riio Prophet paused, and iA\ that pomp of plumes 
 Bowed as the harvest a hich the south wind heaves, 
 
 When, while the breeze disturbs, tlie beam illumes, 
 And blessirgs gladden in the trembling sheaves. 
 
 He paused, and thus renewed : " Thrice happy, ye 
 
 Founders of shrines and sires of kings to be !" 
 
 (XC. 
 
 " Hear, Harold, type of the strong Saxon soul. 
 
 Supple to truth, Uxitameable by force. 
 Thy dauntless blood thro' Gwynedd's chief shall roll,t 
 
 Thro' Scotland's monarchs take its fiery course. 
 And flow with Arthur's in the later days, 
 Thro' Ocean-CcTsars, their zone obeys. 
 
 
 " Tlieir Lord they whall praise, 
 
 And their lanjjuag'e they ^h;Vll j)reservc ; 
 '¥\\f\r laiKi tl>ey shal! lose, 
 Except Wihl Wahs !" 
 
 Proi'IIKcy UK Taliksskv. 
 
 t This ])retlietioii refers to ihe ii)avria;4:e of the daujjhter of Grittith -p Llewellyn 
 (Prince of Gwynedd, or North Wales, whose name ruid fate are not inuAUiiliar to tho^^e 
 who have read the roniiinco of 'Harold, the last of the Saxon Kin<;s' ; with Fleance. 
 From that niarriaj,'e descended the Stuarts, and indeed the reijjning family of Great 
 Britain, 
 
[bo >K XI 1. 
 
 BOOK Xll.] 
 
 KING AUTIlUll 
 
 119 
 
 CXCI. 
 
 )n king '• 
 Id Wales : ^ 
 shall sing- 
 hardy gales, 
 iidian led, 
 ,'akes the dead !" 
 
 ip of plumes 
 aW\ wind heaves, 
 beam illumes, 
 bling sheaves, 
 ice happy, yc 
 s to be !" 
 
 ixon soul, 
 
 :ce, 
 chief shall roll, ^ 
 fiery course, 
 ays, 
 
 kVu preserve ; 
 
 PROl'UECY Ut TAUKS8!S. 
 
 ,.hter of CJriltith -v L|«« .'JlJ^' 
 te are not. uiuAimliar to tho^e 
 Saxon Kin^^s- ; ^vith Fleunce^ 
 
 I the reigning family of Great 
 
 " Man of the manly heart, reward the foe 
 
 Who braved thy sword, and yet forbore thy l)reast. 
 
 Who loved thy child, yet could the love forego 
 And give the sire ; — thy looks supply the r<'st, 
 
 I read thine answer in thy generous glance ! 
 
 Stand forth — bold child of Christian Clievisaunce !" 
 
 excii. 
 
 Then might ye see a sight for smiles and tears, 
 Young Lancelot's hand in Harold's cordial grasp, 
 
 While from his breast the frank-eyed father rears 
 The cheek that glo\,\2 beneath the arms that clasp ; 
 
 " Shrink'st thou," he said, " from bonds by fjite revealed ? 
 
 Go — rock my grandson in the Cymrian's shield !" 
 
 exoiii. 
 
 " And ye," the solemn voice resumed, *' kings I 
 
 Hearken, Pendragon, son of Odin, hear ! 
 There is a mystery in the heart of things. 
 
 Which Truth and Falsehood seek alike with fear, 
 To Truth from Heaven, to Falsehood breathed from hell. 
 Comes yet to both the unquiet oracle. 
 
 * CXC'IV. 
 
 " Not vainly, Crida, priest, and rune, and dream. 
 Warned thee of fates commingling into one 
 
 The silver river arid the mountain stream ; 
 From Odin's daughter and Pendragon's son, 
 
 Slial] rir.e tliose kings who in remotest years 
 
 Shall grasp the birthright of the Saxon spears. 
 
420 
 
 KING AimiUll 
 
 [book XII. 
 
 I 
 
 [{» i 
 
 
 (JXC'V. 
 
 " Tho briglit (k'crce that scomeJ a curse to Fate, 
 Blesses both races when fulfilled hy lovo ; 
 
 Saxon, from Arthur shall thy lineaf];e date, 
 Thine eagles, Arthur, from thy Saxon dove : * 
 
 The link of peace let nuptial garlands weave, 
 
 And Cymri'a queen he Saxon Genevieve !" 
 
 ('XCVI. 
 
 Perplexed, reluctant with the jjangs of pride. 
 And shadowy doubts from dark religion thrown, 
 
 Stern Crida lingering turned his face aside ; 
 Then rise the elders from the idol stone ; 
 
 From fallen chains the kindred Teutons spring, 
 
 Low murmurs rustic round the moody king ; 
 
 CXCVII. 
 
 On priest and warrior, while they whisper, dwells 
 The searching light of that imi)erious eye ; 
 
 "Warrior and priest, the prophet word compels ; 
 And overmasters like a destiny — 
 
 When towards the maid the radiant conqueror drew, 
 
 And said, " Enslaver, it is mine to sue !" 
 
 cxcviii. 
 
 To Crida, then, " Proud chief, I do confess 
 The loftier attribute 'tis thine to boast. 
 
 The pride of kings is in the power to bless, 
 
 The kingliest hand is that wluch gives the most ; 
 
 Priceless the gift I ask thee to bestow, — 
 
 But doubly royal is a generous foe !" 
 
 * See note 2 in Appendix. 
 
BOOK XII.] 
 
 Kim ARTHUR. 
 
 421 
 
 cxcrx. 
 
 Then fortli — suIkIuocI, yet stately, Criila came, 
 And the last hold in that nido heart was won : 
 
 " Hero, thy conquest makes no more my shame, 
 He shares thy glory who can call thee * Son !* 
 
 So may this love-knot bind and bless the lands !" 
 
 Faltering he spoke — and joined the plighted hands. 
 
 cc. 
 
 There flock the hosts as to a holy ground ; 
 
 There, where the dove at last may fold the wing : 
 His mission ended, and his labours crowned. 
 
 Fair as in fable stands the Dragon King — 
 
 Below the Cross, and by his pro}>het's side, 
 
 "With Carduel's knighthood kneeling round his bride. 
 
 b conriueror drew, 
 
 cci. 
 
 What gallant deeds in gentle lists were done. 
 
 What lutes made joyaunce sweet in jasmine bowers. 
 
 Let others tell : — Slow sets the summer sun ; 
 
 Slow fall the mists, and closing, droop the flowers ; 
 
 Faint in the gloaming dies the vesper bell,— 
 
 And Dream-land sweeps round golden Carduel. 
 
H S 
 
 
 i-'. -- 
 
NOTES. 
 
 Page 4, Book I., stanza iv. 
 
 ** While CymrVs dragon, from the lioman'' s hold. 
 Spread with calm wing o'er Carducl s domes of gold.'^ 
 
 The Carduel of the Fabliaux is not easily ascertained : its site, though 
 without close adherence to the actual features of the locality, is here 
 identified with that of Caerleon on the Usk, the favourite residence of 
 Arthur, according to the Welch poets. This must have been a city of 
 no ordinary splendour in the supposed age of Arthur, while still fresh 
 from the hands of the Roman ; since, so late as the twelfth century, 
 Giraldus Cambrensis, in his well-known description, speaks as an eye- 
 witness of the many vestiges of its former splendour. "Immense 
 palaces, ornamented with gilded roofs, in imitation of Roman magnifi- 
 cence, a tower of prodigious size, remai-kablo hot baths, relics of 
 temples," &c. (Giraldus Cambrensis, SirR. Hoare's translation, vol. i. p. 
 103.) Geoffrey of Monmouth (1. ix. c. 12,) also mentions, admiringly, 
 the gilt roofs of (^aerleon, a subject on which he might be a little more 
 accurate than in those other details in his notable chronicle, not drawn 
 from the same ocular experience. The luxurious Romans, indeed, had 
 bequeathed to the chiefs of Britain abodes of splendour and habits of 
 refinement which had no parallel in the Saxon domination. Sir F. 
 Palgrave truly remarks, that even in the fourteenth century the edifices 
 raised in Britain by the Romans were so numerous and costly as almost 
 to excel any others on this side of the Alps. Caerleon (Isca Augusta) 
 
426 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 was the Roman capital of Siluria, the garrison of the renowned Second 
 or Augustan legion, and the Palatian residence of the Praetor. Tl was 
 not, however, according to national authority, founded by the Romans, 
 but by the mythical Berlin Mawr, three centuries before Caosar's 
 invasion. It is scarcely necessary to observe, that the dragon was the 
 standard of the Cymry, (a word, by the way, which I trust my Welch 
 readers will forgive me for spelling Cymri). 
 
 ,i 
 
 
 mi- 
 
 Page 76, Book III., stanza xxxviii. 
 
 " Ami 2)f eased, behold qna' midway up the hill, 
 His hufjhts and squires.'^ 
 
 It need scarcely be observed, that the title of knight, as it is now 
 understood, is very incorrectly given to the followers of the Heathen 
 Harold or, indeed, in an age so early, to those of the Christian Arthur 
 himself. Nor were heralds (so freely introduced in the poem) yet 
 known. They do not appear in England, under that name at least, 
 till the reign of Edward III. But those accustomed to the delightful 
 anachronisms of a similar kind, both in the romantic lays and the heroic 
 poems of chivalry, will require no apology for what, while most depart- 
 ing from the costume of Arthur's historical day, does in truth adhere 
 strictly to the manners of the time in which Arthur took his poetical 
 existence, and was recreated by knightly minstrels as the type of 
 knighthood. 
 
 I assume, throughout the poem, that Arthur understands the language 
 of the Saxons, and that any conversation between them is carried on in 
 that tongue. For the evidence that a dialect closely allied to the 
 Anglo-Saxon was spoken in Britain long before the invasion of Hengist, 
 see Palgrave's English Commonwealth (vol. i. c. i. p. 27), a work that 
 combines English discretion with German learning. 1 assume, also, 
 that Arthur, as intimately allied with Teutonic and Scandinavian 
 potentates, is acquainted with the chief dialects of the north, and is 
 thus enabled to communicate with the idolatrous Aleman priest, and 
 other Northern personages, whom the progess of the story may introduce. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 427 
 
 the renowned Secoml 
 f the Pra;tor. Tl waa 
 mded by the Romans, 
 turies before Caesar's 
 at the dragon was the 
 lich I trust my Welcli 
 
 I'aye 85, Book III., stanza Ixxv. 
 
 **yl ?'•/.?(' Etrurian L(ir,/ur«irarned Cticasi .saiii) 
 B)/ his dark Ca're, from the danger Jhd.^^ 
 
 Lar (from whicii the adjective lariau) is, strictly speaking, the name 
 for a household god ; and lars (from which lartian) for a lord or chief ; 
 but for the sake of euphony, lar is used for the latter signification in this 
 poem. 
 
 ) the h'dl, 
 
 )f knight, as it is now 
 [lowers of the Heathen 
 ,f the Christian Arthur 
 ced in the poem) yet 
 3r that name at least, 
 jnied to the delightful 
 ntic lays and the heroic 
 hat, while most depart- 
 does in truth adhere 
 rthur took his poetical 
 istrels as the type of 
 
 idcrstands the language 
 m them is carried on in 
 b closely allied to the 
 ihe invasion of Hengist, 
 i. p. 27), a work that 
 rning. 1 assume, also, 
 anic and Scandinavian 
 ^s of the north, and is 
 ous Aleman priest, and 
 the story may introduce. 
 
 raj,'o 00, Book III., stanza xciii. 
 
 *' And all the honours of the race 
 
 Lond their last bloom to smih on ^^yle's face.'^ 
 
 The Etrurians paid more respect to women than most of the classical 
 nations, and admitted females to the throne. The Augur (a purely 
 Etruscan name and oflice) was the highest power in the state. In the 
 earlier Etruscan history the Augur and the king were unqiiestionably 
 united in one person. Latterly, this does not appear to have been 
 necessarily (nor perhaps generally) the case. The king (whether wt 
 call him lars or lucumo), as well as the Augur, was elected out of a 
 certain tribe or clan ; but in the strange colony described in the poem, 
 it is supposed that the rank has become hereditary in the family of the 
 chief who headed it, as would probably have been the case even in 
 more common-place settlements in another soil. Thus, the first Etrurian 
 colonist, Tarchun, no doubt had his successors in his own lineage. 
 
 I cannot assert that ^Egle is a purely Etruscan name ; it is one 
 common both Avith the Greeks and Latins. In Apollodorus (ii. 5) it is 
 given to one of the Hcsperidcs, and in Virgil (P]clog. vi. 1. 20) to the 
 fairest of the Naiads, the daughter of the Sun ; but it is not contrary 
 to the conformation of the Etruscan language, as, by the way, many of 
 the most popular Latinized Etruscan words are, such as Lucumo, for 
 Lauchme ; and even Porsena, or, as Virgil (contrary to other authori- 
 ties) spells and pronounces it, Porsc/niP, (a name which has revived to 
 
428 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 fresh fame in Mr. Macaulay's noble " Lays") is a sad coiTuption ; for, as 
 both Niebuhr and Sir William Gell remark, the Etruscan had no o iii 
 their language. Pliny informs us that they supplied its place by the 
 V. I apprehend that an Etrurian would have spelt Forsena Pvrsna. 
 
 Page 101, Book IV., stanza xi. 
 
 '• Like that in tvJiich the far Saronides 
 Exchanged dark riddles loith the Samian sage.'^ 
 
 Diodorus Siculus speaks with great respect of the Saronides as the 
 Druid priests of Gaul.* The notions of Pythagoras as to the transmi- 
 gration of souls, and certain other intricate points of Heathen theology, 
 were similar to those of the Druids. For the initiation of this vciy 
 legendary philosopher (whose name sometimes represents a personage 
 genuinely historical — sometimes a sect partly scholastic, jjartly political) 
 into the Druid mysteries, see Clem. Alex, strom. L. i. Ex. Alex. Poly- 
 hist. It will be observed that the author here takes advantage of the 
 well-known assertions of many erudite authorities that the Phrenician 
 language is the parent of the Celtic, in order to obtain a channel of oral 
 communication between Arthur and the Etrurian ; + though, contented 
 with those authorities, as suificing for all poetic purpose, he prudently 
 declines entering into a controversy equally abstruse and interminable, 
 as to the affinity between the countrymen of Dido and the scattered 
 remnants of the Briton. It is not surprising that the Augur should know 
 Pha;nician, for we have only to suppose that he maintained, as well as he 
 
 * Mr. Davis, in his (Jeltic Researches, insists upon it that Saronides is a Britisli word, 
 cnnipounded from sOr, stars ; and honydd, "one who discriminates or points out :" in 
 fine, according to him the Saronides are Seronyddion, i. e. astronomers. 
 
 t It may perhaps occur to the reader that Latin, with which Arthur (in an age so 
 shortly subsequent to the Roman occupation of Britain,) could scarcely fail to be well 
 acquainted, might have furnished a better mode of communication between himself and 
 the Augur. But the Latin language would have been ver>- imperfectly settled at the 
 time of the supposed Etrurian emigration ; would have had no connection with the 
 literature, sacred or profane, of the Etrurians ; and would long have been despised as a 
 rude medley of various tongues and dialects, by the proud and polished race which the 
 Romans subjected. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 ^amkm scuje. 
 
 429 
 
 could in liis retreat, the knowledge common with his priestly forefathers. 
 The intercourse between' the Etrui "an and the Phoenician states (especially 
 Carthage) was too considerable not to have rendered the language of 
 the last familiar to the learning of the first, to say nothing of those more 
 disputable affinities of origin and religion, which, if existing, would 
 have made an acquaintance with Phcenician necessary to the solution of 
 their historical chronicles and sacred books. Nor, when the Augur 
 afterwards assures Arthur that ^gl6 also understands Phoenician, is 
 any extravagant demand made upon the credulity of the indulgent 
 reader ; for those who have consulted such lights as research has 
 thrown upon Etrurian records, are awart that their more high-bom 
 women appear to have received no ordinary mental cultivation. 
 
 Page 318, Book X., stanza cli. 
 
 ** And blood-stained altars cvrsed the mountain sod, 
 Where the frst faith had haiVd the only God." 
 
 The testimony to be found in classical writers as to the original purity 
 of the Druid worship, before it was corrupted into the idolatry which 
 existed in Britain at the time of the Roman con'^uest, is strongly corro- 
 borated by the Welch Liiads. These triads, indeed, are of various dates, 
 but some bear the mark of a very remote antiquity — wholly distinct 
 alike from the philosophy of the Romans, and the mode of thought 
 prevalent in the earlier ages of the Chrialian era ; in short, anterior to 
 all the recorded conquests over the Cymrian people. These, like pro- 
 verbs, appear the wrecks and fragments of some primaeval ethics, or 
 piiilosopiiical religion. Nor are such remarkable alone for the purity of 
 the notions they inculcate relative to the Deity ; they have often, upon 
 matters less spiritual, the delicate observation, as well as the profound 
 thought, of reflective wisdom. It is easy to see in them, how identified 
 was the Bard with the Sage — that rare union which produces the highest 
 kind of human knowledge. Such, perhaps, are the relics of that 
 sublimer learning which, ages before the sacrifice of victims in wicker- 
 
430 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 idols, won for the Druids the admiration of the cautious Aristotle, as 
 ranking among the true cnlighteners of men — such the teachers who, 
 if there be truth in the classical legend, instructed the mystical Pytha- 
 goras : and furnished new themes for meditation to the musing Brah- 
 man. iNor were the Druids of Britain inferior to those with whom the 
 Sages of the western and eastern world ^.'me more in contact. On the 
 contrary, even to the time of Ciesar, the Druids of Britain excelled in 
 science and repute those of Gaul : and to their schools the Neophytes of 
 the Continent were sent. 
 
 In the Stanzas that follow the description of the more primitive 
 Cymrians, it is assumed that the rude Druid remains now existent (as 
 at Stonehenge, &c.), are coeval only with the later and corrupted state 
 of a people degenerated to idol worship, and that they previously 
 possessed an architecture, of which no trace now remains, more suited 
 to their early civilization. If it he true that they worshipped the Deity 
 only in his own works, and that it was not until what had been a symbol 
 passed into an idol, that they deserted the mountain top and the forest 
 for the temple, they would certaiidy have wanted the main inducement to 
 permanent and lofty architecture. Still it may be allowed, at least to a 
 poet, to suppose that men so sensible as the primitive Saronides, would 
 have held their schools and colleges in places more adapted to a northern 
 climate than their favourite oak groves. 
 
 Page 393, Book XII., stanza xci. 
 
 *' To all the valiant GhuUhehn\s halls unclose, 
 III Heaven the comrades were on earth the/oea." 
 
 Krrold's disdain of the notions of the Saxon Priesthood when they 
 oppose his own purpose or offend his native humanity, is in accord- 
 ance with many anecdotes of the fierce followers of Odin, who, like the 
 heroes of the Iliad, ans at one time represented as submissively respect- 
 ful to soothsayer and omen, — and, at another, as haughtily scornful of 
 both. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 131 
 
 cautious Ariatotle, as 
 cli the teachers who, 
 (I the mystical Pytha- 
 11 to the musing Brah- 
 ) those with -whom the 
 re in contact. On the 
 of Britain excelled in 
 :;hools the Neophytes of 
 
 of the more priniitivo 
 imains noio existent (as 
 ter and corrupted state 
 that they previously 
 w remains, more suited 
 y worshipped the Deity 
 what had been a symhol 
 itain top and the forest 
 the main inducement to 
 be allowed, at least to a 
 nitive Saronides, would 
 re adapted to a northern 
 
 In the distinctions, however, between the manly belief of Harold and 
 the more servile superstition of Crida, it is intended to intimate the 
 qualities and impressions from which the Christian religion would make 
 its earliest proselytes. We must remember, that it was not very long 
 after the date, which the establishment of the Mercian kingdom ttxes to 
 the events of this poem, that the various kings of the Heptarchy were 
 converted. 
 
 l'aj,'c 420, Book XII., stanza cxcv. 
 
 ** Saxon, from Arthur shall thif Uimuje datr. 
 Thine eatjles, Arthur, from, tinj Saxon dovi." 
 
 According to Welch genealogists Arthur left nc sou ; and I must 
 therefore invite the believer in Merlin's pro] ihecy, to suppose that it was 
 by a daughter that Arthur's line was coninued, and the royalty of 
 Britain restored to the Cymrian kings, through the House of Tudor. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 Priesthood when they 
 humanity, is in accord- 
 s of Odin, who, like the 
 as submissively respect - 
 haughtily scornful of 
 
 IICKTER, R03K AM) CO., I'RINTERS, ToKOMO.