vere: "I heard the water lapping on the crag, And the long ripple washing in the reeds." To whom replied King Arthur, much in wrath: "Ah, miserable and unkind, untrue, Unknightly, traitor-hearted! Woe is me! Authority forgets a dying king, Laid widowed of the power in his eye That bowed the will. I see thee what thou art, 291 For thou, the latest-left of all my knights, In whom should meet the offices of all, Thou wouldst betray me for the precious hilt; Either from lust of gold, or like a girl But, if thou spare to fling Excalibur, “Sir King, I closed mine eyelids, lest the gems 320 Should blind my purpose, for I never saw, Nor shall see, here or elsewhere, till I die, Nor tho' I live three lives of mortal men, But when I looked again, behold an arm, Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful, That caught him by the hilt, and brandished him Three times, and drew him under in the. mere." "My end draws nigh; 'tis time that I were gone. Make broad thy shoulders to receive my weight, And bear me to the margin; yet I fear My wound hath taken cold, and I shall die." So saying, from the pavement he half rose, Slowly, with pain, reclining on his arm, And looking wistfully with wide blue eyes As in a picture. Him Sir Bedivere Remorsefully regarded thro' his tears, And would have spoken, but he found not words; 340 Then took with care, and kneeling on one knee, O'er both his shoulders drew the languid hands, And rising bore him thro' the place of tombs. But, as he walked, King Arthur panted hard, Like one that feels a nightmare on his bed When all the house is mute. So sighed the King, Muttering and murmuring at his ear, "Quick, quick! 1 fear it is too late, and I shall die." But the other swiftly strode from ridge to ridge, Clothed with his breath, and looking, as he walked, 350 Larger than human on the frozen hills. He heard the deep behind him, and a cry Before. His own thought drove him like a goad. Dry clashed his harness in the icy caves And barren chasms, and all to left and right The bare black cliff clanged round him, as he based His feet on juts of slippery crag that rang Sharp-smitten with the dint of armèd heels And on a sudden, lo! the level lake, Beneath them; and descending they were ware That all the decks were dense with stately forms, Black-stoled, black-hooded, like a dream— by these Three Queens with crowns of gold: and from them rose A cry that shivered to the tingling stars, And, as it were one voice, an agony Of lamentation, like a wind that shrills All night in a waste land, where no one comes, 370 Or hath come, since the making of the world. Then murmured Arthur, "Place me in the barge." So to the barge they came. There those three Queens Put forth their hands, and took the King, and wept. But she, that rose the tallest of them all And fairest, laid his head upon her lap, And loosed the shattered casque, and chafed his hands, And called him by his name, complaining loud, And dropping bitter tears against a brow Striped with dark blood: for all his face was white 380 And colorless, and like the withered Nor ever wind blows loudly; but it lies Deep-meadowed, happy, fair with orchard lawns 430 And bowery hollows crowned with summer sea, Where I will heal me of my grievous wound." So said he, and the barge with oar and sail Moved from the brink, like some fullbreasted swan That, fluting a wild carol ere her death, Ruffles her pure cold plume, and takes the flood With swarthy webs. Long stood Sir Bedivere Revolving many memories, till the hull Looked one black dot against the verge of dawn, And on the mere the wailing died away. But when that moan had passed for evermore, 441 The stillness of the dead world's winter dawn Amazed him, and he groaned, "The King is gone. And therewithal came on him the weird rhyme, "From the great deep to the great deep he goes."2 [Cape La Hogue, St. Malo, and the Rance River lie on the northern coast of France. Here the British and Dutch allies defeated the fleet of Louis XIV, but a Breton sailor of Croisic, Hervé Riel (pronounced Re-el'), piloted a good number of the fleeing vessels to safety in the roadstead at St. Malo.] On the sea and at the Hogue, sixteen hundred ninety-two, Did the English fight the French,—woe to France! And, the thirty-first of May, helterskelter through the blue, Like a crowd of frightened porpoises a shoal of sharks pursue, Came crowding ship on ship to Saint Malo on the Rance, With the English fleet in view. 'Twas the squadron that escaped, with the victor in full chase; First and foremost of the drove, in his great ship, Damfreville; Close on him fled, great and small, Twenty-two good ships in all; And they signalled to the place "Help the winners of a race! ΙΟ Get us guidance, give us harbor, take us quick-or, quicker still, Here's the English can and will!" Then the pilots of the place put out brisk and leaped on board; "Why what hope or chance have ships like these to pass?" laughed they: "Rocks to starboard, rocks to port, all the passage scarred and scored, Shall the Formidable here with her twelve and eighty guns Think to make the river-mouth by the single narrow way, Trust to enter where 'tis ticklish for a craft of twenty tons, And with flow at full beside? 20 Are you bought by English gold? Is it love the lying's for? Morn and eve, night and day, 50 Entered free and anchored fast at the foot of Solidor. Burn the fleet and ruin France? That were worse than fifty Hogues! Sirs, they know I speak the truth! Sirs, believe me there's a way! Only let me lead the line, Have the biggest ship to steer, Make the others follow mine, And I lead them, most and least, by a passage I know well, Right to Solidor past Grève, And there lay them safe and sound: And if one ship misbehave, 60 -Keel so much as grate the ground, Why I've nothing but my life, here's my head!" cries Hervé Riel. 'Neath rampired Solidor pleasant riding on the Rance!" How hope succeeds despair on each Captain's countenance: Out burst all with one accord, As he stepped in front once more, Then said Damfreville, "My friend, 100 110 France remains your debtor still. Ask to heart's content and have! or my name's not Damfreville.” Then a beam of fun outbroke Since on board the duty's done, Since 'tis ask and have, I may Since the others go ashoreCome! A good whole holiday! Leave to go and see my wife, whom I call the Belle Aurore!" That he asked and that he got,—nothing more. |