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Was I too dark a prophet when I said To those who went upon the Holy Quest, That most of them would follow wandering fires,

Lost in the quagmire ?--lost to me and gone,

And left me gazing at a barren board, And a lean Order-scarce return'd a tithe

And out of those to whom the vision came My greatest hardly will believe he saw ; Another hath beheld it afar off,

And leaving human wrongs to right themselves,

Cares but to pass into the silent life.

And one hath had the vision face to face, And now his chair desires him here in vain,

However they may crown him otherwhere.

"And some among you held, that if

the King

Had seen the sight he would have sworn

the vow:

Not easily, seeing that the King must

guard

That which he rules, and is but as the hind To whom a space of land is given to plough,

Who may not wander from the allotted field

Before his work be done; but, being done, Let visions of the night or of the day Come, as they will; and many a time

they come,

Until this earth he walks on seems not

earth,

This light that strikes his eyeball is not light,

This air that smites his forehead is not air But vision-yea, his very hand and footIn moments when he feels he cannot die, And knows himself no vision to himself,

Nor the high God a vision, nor that One Who rose again ye have seen what ye have seen."

'So spake the King: I knew not all he meant.'

PELLEAS AND ETTARRE.

KING ARTHUR made new knights to fill the gap

Left by the Holy Quest; and as he sat In hall at old Caerleon, the high doors Were softly sunder'd, and thro' these a youth,

Pelleas, and the sweet smell of the fields Past, and the sunshine came along with him.

'Make me thy knight, because I know, Sir King,

All that belongs to knighthood, and I love.' Such was his cry; for having heard the

King

Had let proclaim a tournament-the prize A golden circlet and a knightly sword, Full fain had Pelleas for his lady won The golden circlet, for himself the sword : And there were those who knew him near the King,

And promised for him and Arthur made : him knight.

And this new knight, Sir Pelleas of the
isles-

But lately come to his inheritance,
And lord of many a barren isle was he-
Riding at noon, a day or twain before,
Across the forest call'd of Dean, to find
Caerleon and the King, had felt the sun
Beat like a strong knight on his helm, and
reel'd

Almost to falling from his horse; but saw

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Near him a mound of even-sloping side, Whereon a hundred stately beeches grew, And here and there great hollies under them;

But for a mile all round was open space, And fern and heath: and slowly Pelleas drew

To that dim day, then binding his good horse

To a tree, cast himself down; and as he lay

At random looking over the brown earth Thro' that green-glooming twilight of the grove,

It seem'd to Pelleas that the fern without Burnt as a living fire of emeralds,

So that his eyes were dazzled looking at it. Then o'er it crost the dimness of a cloud Floating, and once the shadow of a bird Flying, and then a fawn; and his eyes closed.

And since he loved all maidens, but no maid

In special, half-awake he whisper'd, 'Where?

O where? I love thee, tho' I know thee not.

For fair thou art and pure as Guinevere, And I will make thee with my spear and sword

As famous-O my Queen, my Guinevere, For I will be thine Arthur when we meet.'

Suddenly waken'd with a sound of talk And laughter at the limit of the wood, And glancing thro' the hoary boles, he

saw,

Strange as to some old prophet might have seem'd

A vision hovering on a sea of fire, Damsels in divers colours like the cloud Of sunset and sunrise, and all of them On horses, and the horses richly trapt

Breast-high in that bright line of bracken stood:

And all the damsels talk'd confusedly, And one was pointing this way, and one that,

Because the way was lost.

And Pelleas rose,

And loosed his horse, and led him to the light.

There she that seem'd the chief among

them said,

'In happy time behold our pilot-star! Youth, we are damsels-errant, and we ride, Arm'd as ye see, to tilt against the knights There at Caerleon, but have lost our way: To right? to left? straight forward? back again?

Which? tell us quickly.'

And Pelleas gazing thought,

'Is Guinevere herself so beautiful?' For large her violet eyes look'd, and her

bloom

A rosy dawn kindled in stainless heavens, And round her limbs, mature in woman

hood;

And slender was her hand and small her

shape;

And but for those large eyes, the haunts

of scorn,

She might have seem'd a toy to trifle with, And pass and care no more. But while

he gazed

The beauty of her flesh abash'd the boy, As tho' it were the beauty of her soul: For as the base man, judging of the good, Puts his own baseness in him by default Of will and nature, so did Pelleas lend All the young beauty of his own soul to

hers,

Believing her; and when she spake to

him,

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