And won by Tristram as a tourney-prize, And hither brought by Tristram for his last Love-offering and peace-offering unto thee." He rose, he turn'd, then, flinging round her neck, Claspt it, and cried "Thine Order, O my Queen!" But, while he bow'd to kiss the jewell'd throat, Out of the dark, just as the lips had touch'd, Behind him rose a shadow and a shriek "Mark's way," said Mark, and clove him thro' the brain. That night came Arthur home, and while he climb'd, All in a death-dumb autumn-dripping gloom The stairway to the hall, and look'd and saw The great Queen's bower was dark,--about his feet A voice clung sobbing till he question'd it, "What art thou?" and the voice about his feet Sent up an answer, sobbing, "I am thy fool, And I shall never make thee smile again.” END OF VOL. VII. PRINTING OFFICE OF THE PUBLISHER. |