She spake and King Leodogran re- And Lancelot past away among the joiced, flowers, But mu ig Shall I answer yea or nay?', (For then was latter April) and return'd Doubted, and drowsed, nodded and slept, Among the flowers, in May, with Guine saint, Dreaming, a slope of land that ever grew, To whom arrived, by Dubric the high Now looming, and now lost; and on the slope The sword rose, the hind fell, the herd was driven, Chief of the church in Britain, and before That morn was married, while in stainless The fair beginners of a nobler time, Fire glimpsed; and all the land from roof And glorying in their vows and him, his and rick, In drifts of smoke before a rolling wind, Stream'd to the peak, and mingled with the haze knights Stood round him, and rejoicing in his joy. Far shone the fields of May thro' open door, And made it thicker; while the phantom The sacred altar blossom'd white with May, there Stood one who pointed toward the voice, Roll'd incense, and there past along the hymns the rest Slew on and burnt, crying, ‘No king of A voice as of the waters, while the two Sware at the shrine of Christ a deathless love : ours, No son of Uther, and no king of ours ;' Till with a wink his dream was changed, And Arthur said, 'Behold, thy doom is Back to the court of Arthur answering yea. And holy Dubric spread his hands and spake, Then Arthur charged his warrior whom Reign ye, and live and love, and make he loved the world And honour'd most, Sir Lancelot, to ride Other, and may thy Queen be one with forth thee, And bring the Queen ;-and watch'd him And all this Order of thy Table Round Fulfil the boundless purpose of their King! from the gates : So Dubric said; but when they left the The King is King, and ever wills the shrine highest. Great Lords from Rome before the portal Clang battleaxe, and clash brand! Let With sun and cloth of gold, the trumpets Clang battleaxe, and clash brand! Let blew, And Arthur's knighthood sang before the King the King reign. 'The King will follow Christ, and we the King Blow trumpet, for the world is white In whom high God hath breathed a secret with May; thing. Blow trumpet, the long night hath roll'd Fall battleaxe, and flash brand! Let away! Blow thro' the living world-"Let the King reign." the King reign.' So sang the knighthood, moving to their hall. 'Shall Rome or Heathen rule in There at the banquet those great Lords Flash brand and lance, fall battleaxe upon The slowly-fading mistress of the world, Strode in, and claim'd their tribute as of 'Strike for the King and live! his To wage my wars, and worship me their to new; That God hath told the King a secret The old order changeth, yielding place word. Fall battleaxe, and flash brand! Let the And we that fight for our fair father Christ, King reign. Seeing that ye be grown too weak and old Blow trumpet! he will lift us from To drive the heathen from your Roman the dust. wall, Blow trumpet! live the strength and die No tribute will we pay :' so those great lords Clang battleaxe, and clash brand! Let Draw back in wrath, and Arthur strove the lust ! the King reign. 'Strike for the King and die! and if with Rome. And Arthur and his knighthood for a came Were all one will, and thro' that strength Fought, and in twelve great battles overthe King Drew in the petty princedoms under The heathen hordes, and made a realm and reign'd. him, Until she let me fly discaged to sweep Lost footing, fell, and so was whirl'd Down upon all things base, and dash them dead, away. 'How he went down,' said Gareth, as A knight of Arthur, working out his will, Heaven yield her for it, but in me put 'Thou art but a wild-goose to question 'Then, mother, an ye love the child,' he 'Gold? said I gold?—ay then, why he, said, 'Being a goose and rather tame than wild, Hear the child's story.' 'Yea, my wellbeloved, or she, Or whosoe'er it was, or half the world Had ventured-had the thing I spake of been An 'twere but of the goose and golden Mere gold-but this was all of that true eggs.' steel, Whereof they forged the brand Excalibur, And Gareth answer'd her with kindling And lightnings play'd about it in the ‘Nay, nay, good mother, but this egg of And all the little fowl were flurried at it, And there were cries and clashings in the mine Was finer gold than any goose can lay ; For this an Eagle, a royal Eagle, laid Almost beyond eye-reach, on such a palm As glitters gilded in thy Book of Hours. And there was ever haunting round the palm A lusty youth, but poor, who often saw The splendour sparkling from aloft, and thought "An I could climb and lay my hand upon it, Then were I wealthier than a leash of kings." But ever when he reach'd a hand to climb, One, that had loved him from his child hood, caught And stay'd him, "Climb not lest thou break thy neck, I charge thee by my love," and so the boy, Sweet mother, neither clomb, nor brake his neck, But brake his very heart in pining for it, And past away.' To whom the mother said, 'True love, sweet son, had risk'd himself and climb'd, nest, That sent him from his senses : let me go.' Then Bellicent bemoan'd herself and said, 'Hast thou no pity upon my loneliness? Lo, where thy father Lot beside the hearth Lies like a log, and all but smoulder'd out! For ever since when traitor to the King He fought against him in the Barons' war, And Arthur gave him back his territory, His age hath slowly droopt, and now lies there A yet-warm corpse, and yet unburiable, No more; nor sees, nor hears, nor speaks, nor knows. And both thy brethren are in Arthur's hall, And thee, mine innocent, the jousts, the wars, Who never knewest finger-ache, nor pang Of wrench'd or broken limb-an often chance And handed down the golden treasure to In those brain-stunning shocks, and So make thy manhood mightier day by Follow the deer? follow the Christ, the day; Sweet is the chase and I will seek thee Live pure, speak true, right wrong, follow out Some comfortable bride and fair, to grace year, Till falling into Lot's forgetfulness I know not thee, myself, nor anything. King, the King Else, wherefore born?' To whom the mother said, 'Sweet son, for there be many who deem him not, Stay, my best son! ye are yet more boy Or will not deem him, wholly proven For, mother, there was once a King, like And heard him Kingly speak, and doubted The prince his heir, when tall and No more than he, himself; but felt him mine, marriageable, Ask'd for a bride; and thereupon the Of closest kin to me: yet-wilt thou leave Thine easeful biding here, and risk thine all, One was fair, Life, limbs, for one that is not proven King Set two before him. strong, arm'd— But to be won by force-and many men And these were the conditions of the That save he won the first by force, he King? Stay, till the cloud that settles round his birth Hath lifted but a little. Stay, sweet son.' And Gareth answer'd quickly, Not an hour, So that ye yield me--I will walk thro' fire, Must wed that other, whom no man Mother, to gain it-your full leave to go. desired, A red-faced bride who knew herself so That evermore she long'd to hide herself, And one-they call'd her Fame; and one,-O Mother, How can ye keep me tether'd to you Shame ! Man am I grown, a man's work must I do. Not proven, who swept the dust of ruin'd Rome From off the threshold of the realm, and crush'd The Idolaters, and made the people free? Who should be King save him who makes us free?' So when the Queen, who long had sought in vain To break him from the intent to which he grew, |