Then from the castle gateway by the chasm

Descending thro' the dismal night-a night

In which the bounds of heaven and earth were lost

Beheld, so high upon the dreary deeps It seem'd in heaven, a ship, the shape thereof

A dragon wing'd, and all from stem to

stern

Bright with a shining people on the decks, And gone as soon as seen. And then the two Dropt to the cove, and watch'd the great sea fall,

Wave after wave, each mightier than the last,

Till last, a ninth one, gathering half the deep

And full of voices, slowly rose and plunged Roaring, and all the wave was in a flame: And down the wave and in the flame was borne

A naked babe, and rode to Merlin's feet, Who stoopt and caught the babe, and cried "The King!

Here is an heir for Uther!" And the

fringe

Of that great breaker, sweeping up the

strand,

Lash'd at the wizard as he spake the word, And all at once all round him rose in fire, So that the child and he were clothed in fire.

And presently thereafter follow'd calm, Free sky and stars: "And this same

child," he said,

"Is he who reigns; nor could I part in peace

Till this were told." And saying this the

seer

Went thro' the strait and dreadful pass of death,

Not ever to be question'd any more Save on the further side; but when I met Merlin, and ask'd him if these things were truth

The shining dragon and the naked child Descending in the glory of the seas— He laugh'd as is his wont, and answer'd

me

In riddling triplets of old time, and said :

"Rain, rain, and sun! a rainbow in

the sky!

A young man will be wiser by and by ; An old man's wit may wander ere he die. Rain, rain, and sun! a rainbow on the

lea !

And truth is this to me, and that to thee; And truth or clothed or naked let it be.

Rain, sun, and rain! and the free

blossom blows :

Sun, rain, and sun! and where is he who knows?

From the great deep to the great deep he goes."

'So Merlin riddling anger'd me; but

thou

Fear not to give this King thine only child, Guinevere: so great bards of him will sing Hereafter; and dark sayings from of old Ranging and ringing thro' the minds of

men,

And echo'd by old folk beside their fires For comfort after their wage-work is done, Speak of the King; and Merlin in our time

Hath spoken also, not in jest, and sworn Tho' men may wound him that he will

not die,

But pass, again to come; and then or now
Utterly smite the heathen underfoot,
Till these and all men hail him for their
king.'

'Then, mother, an ye love the child,' he said,

'Being a goose and rather tame than wild, Hear the child's story.' 'Yea, my wellbeloved,

An 'twere but of the goose and golden eggs.'

And Gareth answer'd her with kindling

eyes,

'Nay, nay, good mother, but this egg of 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 childhood, 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,

And handed down the golden treasure to him.'

And Gareth answer'd her with kindling

eyes,

'Gold? said I gold?—ay then, why he,

or she,

Or whosoe'er it was, or half the world Had ventured-had the thing I spake of been

Mere gold-but this was all of that true steel,

Whereof they forged the brand Excalibur, And lightnings play'd about it in the

storm,

And all the little fowl were flurried at it, And there were cries and clashings in the

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, Albeit neither loved with that full love

I feel for thee, nor worthy such a love : Stay therefore thou; red berries charm the bird,

And thee, mine innocent, the jousts, the

wars,

Who never knewest finger-ache, nor pang Of wrench'd or broken limb-an often chance

In those brain-stunning shocks, and tourney-falls,

Frights to my heart; but stay: follow

the deer

By these tall firs and our fast-falling burns;