to new,

And all his greaves and cuisses dash'd with The old order changeth, yielding place
drops
Of onset; and the light and lustrous And God fulfils himself in many ways,
Lest one good custom should corrupt the

curls

That made his forehead like a rising sun High from the daïs-throne-were parch'd with dust;

Or, clotted into points and hanging loose,

world.

Comfort thyself: what comfort is in me? I have lived my life, and that which I have done

Mix'd with the knightly growth that May He within himself make pure! but

fringed his lips.

So like a shatter'd column lay the King; Not like that Arthur who, with lance in rest,

From spur to plume a star of tournament, Shot thro' the lists at Camelot, and charged

Before the eyes of ladies and of kings.

thou,

If thou shouldst never see my face again, Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer

Than this world dreams of. Wherefore,
let thy voice

Rise like a fountain for me night and day.
For what are men better than sheep or goats
That nourish a blind life within the brain,

Then loudly cried the bold Sir If, knowing God, they lift not hands of

prayer

Bedivere : 'Ah! my Lord Arthur, whither shall I go? Both for themselves and those who call

Where shall I hide my forehead and my

eyes?

them friend?

For so the whole round earth is every way

For now I see the true old times are Bound by gold chains about the feet of God.

dead,

When every morning brought a noble But now farewell. I am going a long way chance, With these thou seest-if indeed I go And every chance brought out a noble (For all my mind is clouded with a knight.

doubt)

Such times have been not since the light To the island-valley of Avilion ;

that led

The holy Elders with the gift of myrrh. But now the whole Round Table is dissolved

Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow,
Nor ever wind blows loudly; but it lies
Deep-meadow'd, happy, fair with orchard
lawns

Which was an image of the mighty world, And bowery hollows crown'd with summer
And I, the last, go forth companionless,
And the days darken round me, and the

years,

Among new men, strange faces, other

minds.'

sea,

Where I will heal me of my grievous wound.'

So said he, and the barge with oar and sail

And slowly answer'd Arthur from the Moved from the brink, like some full

barge:

breasted swan

That, fluting a wild carol ere her death, O me,
Ruffles her pure cold plume, and takes

the flood

With swarthy webs. Long stood Sir
Bedivere

Revolving many memories, till the hull

be yon dark Queens in yon black boat,

Who shriek'd and wail'd, the three whereat we gazed

On that high day, when, clothed with living light,

Look'd one black dot against the verge of They stood before his throne in silence,

dawn, And on the mere the wailing died away. Of Arthur, who should help him at his

But when that moan had past for ever

more,

The stillness of the dead world's winter

dawn

friends

need?'

Then from the dawn it seem'd there

came, but faint

As from beyond the limit of the world, Amazed him, and he groan'd, 'The King Like the last echo born of a great cry, Sounds, as if some fair city were one voice And therewithal came on him the weird Around a king returning from his wars.

is gone.'

Who scarce had pluck'd his flickering life And welcome! witness, too, the silent cry,

From sunset and sunrise of all thy realm, | And cleaves to cairn and cromlech still; And that true North, whereof we lately

heard

A strain to shame us keep you to your selves;

or him

Of Geoffrey's book, or him of Malleor's,

one

Touch'd by the adulterous finger of a time
That hover'd between war and wanton-

ness,

So loyal is too costly! friends-your love
Is but a burthen: loose the bond, and go.'
Is this the tone of empire? here the faith And crownings and dethronements: take
That made us rulers? this, indeed, her

voice

And meaning, whom the roar of Hougou

mont

Left mightiest of all peoples under heaven?
What shock has fool'd her since, that she

should speak

withal

Thy poet's blessing, and his trust that
Heaven

Will blow the tempest in the distance back
From thine and ours: for some are scared,
who mark,

Or wisely or unwisely, signs of storm,

So feebly? wealthier-wealthier-hour Waverings of every vane with every wind, And wordy trucklings to the transient hour,

by hour!

The voice of Britain, or a sinking land,

Some third-rate isle half-lost among her And fierce or careless looseners of the

There rang her voice, when the full city And Softness breeding scorn of simple

For ever-broadening England, and her And that which knows not, ruling that

throne

which knows

In our vast Orient, and one isle, one isle, To its own harm: the goal of this great

For one to whom I made it o'er his grave That saved her many times, not fail

Sacred, accept this old imperfect tale,

their fears

New-old, and shadowing Sense at war Are morning shadows huger than the

Rather than that gray king, whose name, That cast them, not those gloomier which a ghost, forego

Streams like a cloud, man-shaped, from The darkness of that battle in the West, Where all of high and holy dies away.

mountain peak,

PHILIP, King of Naples and Sicily, afterwards King of Spain.

THE PRINCESS ELIZABETH.

REGINALD POLE, Cardinal and Papal Legate.

SIMON RENARD, Spanish Ambassador.

LE SIEUR DE NOAILLES, French Ambassador.

THOMAS CRANMER, Archbishop of Canterbury.

SIR NICHOLAS HEATH, Archbishop of York; Lord Chancellor after Gardiner.
EDWARD COURTENAY, Earl of Devon.

LORD WILLIAM HOWARD, afterwards Lord Howard, and Lord High Admiral.
LORD WILLIAMS OF THAME.

LORD PAGET.

LORD PETRE,

STEPHEN GARDINER, Bishop of Winchester and Lord Chancellor.
EDMUND BONNER, Bishop of London. THOMAS THIRLBY, Bishop of Ely.

Lords and other Attendants, Members of the Privy Council, Members of Parliament, Two Gentlemen, Aldermen, Citizens, Peasants, Ushers, Messengers, Guards, Pages, Gospellers, Marshalmen, &c.

Third Citizen. That was after, man;

that was after.

First Citizen.

bastard?

Second Citizen. bastards by Act Council.

Then which is the

Troth, they be both of Parliament and

Third Citizen. Ay, the Parliament can make every true-born man of us a bastard. Old Nokes, can't it make thee a bastard? thou shouldst know, for thou art as white as three Christmasses.

Old Nokes (dreamily). Who's a-pass-
ing? King Edward or King Richard ?
Third Citizen. No, old Nokes.
Old Nokes. It's Harry!
Third Citizen.
Old Nokes.
passing!
[Falls on his knees.
Nokes. Let father alone, my masters!
he's past your questioning.

It's Queen Mary.
The blessed Mary's a-

Third Citizen. Answer thou for him, then! thou'rt no such cockerel thyself, for thou was born i' the tail end of old Harry the Seventh.

Nokes. Eh! that was afore bastardmaking began. I was born true man at five in the forenoon i' the tail of old Harry, and so they can't make me a bastard.

Third Citizen. But if Parliament can make the Queen a bastard, why, it follows all the more that they can make thee one, who art fray'd i' the knees, and out at elbow, and bald o' the back, and bursten at the toes, and down at heels.

Nokes. I was born of a true man and a ring'd wife, and I can't argue upon it; but I and my old woman 'ud burn upon it, that would we.

Marshalman. What are you cackling of bastardy under the Queen's own nose? I'll have you flogg'd and burnt too, by the Rood I will.

First Citizen. He swears by the Rood.
Whew!

Second Citizen. Hark! the trumpets.
[The Procession passes, Mary ana Eliza.
beth riding side by side, and disap-
pears under the gate.

Citizens.

Long live Queen Mary!
God save her

down with all traitors!
Grace; and death to Northumberland!
[Exeunt.

Manent Two GENTLEMEN.
First Gentleman. By God's light a
noble creature, right royal!

Second Gentleman. She looks comelier than ordinary to-day; but to my mind the Lady Elizabeth is the more noble and royal.

First Gentleman. I mean the Lady Elizabeth. Did you hear (I have a daughter in her service who reported it) that she met the Queen at Wanstead with five hundred horse, and the Queen (tho' some say they be much divided) took her hand, call'd her sweet sister, and kiss'd not her alone, but all the ladies of her following.

Second Gentleman. Ay, that was in her hour of joy; there will be plenty to sunder and unsister them again: this Gardiner for one, who is to be made Lord Chancellor, and will pounce like a wild beast out of his cage to worry Cranmer.

First Gentleman. And furthermore, my daughter said that when there rose a talk of the late rebellion, she spoke even of Northumberland pitifully, and of the good Lady Jane as a poor innocent child who had but obeyed her father; and furthermore, she said that no one in her time should be burnt for heresy.

Second Gentleman. Well, sir, I look for happy times.