195 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 shiver'd to the tingling stars, 200 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,
Or hath come, since the making of the world.
Then murmur'd Arthur, 'Place me in the
barge,'

205 And 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 shatter'd casque, and chafed his
hands,

210 And call'd him by his name, complaining loud,
And dropping bitter tears against his brow
Striped with dark blood: for his face was white
And colourless, and like the wither'd moon
Smote by the fresh beam of the springing east;
215 And all his greaves and cuisses dash'd with drops
Of onset; and the light and lustrous curls-
That made his forehead like a rising sun

High from the dais-throne-were parch'd with
dust;

Or, clotted into points and hanging loose,

220 Mix'd with the knightly growth that 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 225 Before the eyes of ladies and of kings.

Then loudly cried the bold Sir Bedivere, 'Ah! my Lord Arthur, whither shall I go? Where shall I hide my forehead and my eyes? For now I see the true old times are dead, 230 When every morning brought a noble chance, And every chance brought out a noble knight. Such times have been not since the light that led The holy Elders with the gift of myrrh. But now the whole ROUND TABLE is dissolved 235 Which was an image of the mighty world; And I, the last, go forth companionless,

And the days darken round me, and the years,
Among new men, strange faces, other minds.'

And slowly answered Arthur from the barge: 240 The old order changeth, yielding place to new, And God fulfils Himself in many ways,

Lest one good custom should corrupt the world.
Comfort thyself: what comfort is in me?

I have lived my life, and that which I have done 245 May He within Himself make pure! but 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. 250 For what are men better than sheep or goats That nourish a blind life within the brain, If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer Both for themselves and those who call them

friend?

For so the whole round earth is every way 255 Bound by gold chains about the feet of God. But now farewell. I am going a long way With these thou seëst-if indeed I go

(For all my mind is clouded with a doubt)
To the island valley of Avilion;

260 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 And bowery hollows crown'd with summer sea, Where I will heal me of my grievous wound.' 265 So said he, and the barge with oar and sail Moved from the brink, like some full-breasted

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 270 Revolving many memories, till the hull

Look'd one black dot against the verge of dawn,
And on the mere the wailing died away.

Here ended Hall, and our last light, that long Had wink'd and threaten'd darkness, flared and fell:

275 At which the Parson, sent to sleep with sound, And waked with silence, grunted 'Good!' but we Sat rapt it was the tone with which he readPerhaps some modern touches here and there Redeem'd it from the charge of nothingness— 280 Or else we loved the man, and prized his work; I know not: but we sitting, as I said,

The cock crew loud; as at that time of year The lusty bird takes every hour for dawn: Then Francis, muttering, like a man ill-used, 285There now-that's nothing!' drew a little back, And drove his heel into the smoulder'd log, That sent a blast of sparkles up the flue: And so to bed; where yet in sleep I seem'd To sail with Arthur under looming shores, 290 Point after point; till on to dawn, when dreams, Began to feel the truth and stir of day,

To me, methought, who waited with a crowd, There came a bark that, blowing forward, bore King Arthur, like a modern gentleman 295 of stateliest port; and all the people cried, 'Arthur is come again; he cannot die.'

Then those that stood upon the hills behind
Repeated-Come again, and thrice as fair;'
And, further inland, voices echoed-' Come
300 With all good things, and war shall be no more.'
At this a hundred bells began to peal,

That with the sound I woke, and heard indeed
The clear church-bells ring in the Christmas-

morn.

SIR GALAHAD

(From the same)

My good blade carves the casques of men,
My tough lance thrusteth sure,
My strength is as the strength of ten,
Because my heart is pure.

5 The shattering trumpet shrilleth high,
The hard brands shiver on the steel,
The splinter'd spear-shafts crack and fly,
The horse and rider reel:

10

They reel, they roll in clanging lists,

And when the tide of combat stands,
Perfume and flowers fall in showers,

That lightly rain from ladies' hands.

How sweet are looks that ladies bend
On whom their favours fall!

15 For them I battle till the end,

To save from shame and thrall:

20

But all my heart is drawn above,

My knees are bow'd in crypt and shrine; I never felt the kiss of love,

Nor maiden's hand in mine.

More bounteous aspects on me beam,

Me mightier transports move and thrill;
So keep I fair thro' faith and prayer
A virgin heart in work and will.

25 When down the stormy crescent goes,
A light before me swims,
Between dark stems the forest glows,
I hear a noise of hymns:

30

Then by some secret shrine I ride;

I hear a voice but none are there;
The stalls are void, the doors are wide,
The tapers burning fair.

Fair gleams the snowy altar-cloth,

The silver vessels sparkle clean,

35 The shrill bell rings, the censer swings, And solemn chaunts resound between.

40

Sometimes on lonely mountain-meres
I find a magic bark;

I leap on board: no helmsman steers:
I float till all is dark.

A gentle sound, an awful light!

Three angels bear the holy Grail:
With folded feet, in stoles of white,
On sleeping wings they sail.
45 Oh, blessed vision! blood of God!

My spirit beats her mortal bars,
As down dark tides the glory slides,

And star-like mingles with the stars.

When on my goodly charger borne 50 Thro' dreaming towns I go,