Fell in a doze; and half-awake I heard The parson taking wide and wider sweeps, Now harping on the church-commis sioners, Now hawking at Geology and schism ; Until I woke, and found him settled down Upon the general decay of faith Right thro' the world, 'at home was little left, AT Francis Allen's on the Christmas eve,The game of forfeits done—the girls all kiss'd Beneath the sacred bush and past awayThe parson Holmes, the poet Everard Hall, The host, and I sat round the wassail bowl, Then half-way ebb’d : and there we held a talk, How all the old honour had from Christ mas gone, Or gone, or dwindled down to some odd games In some odd nooks like this ; till I, tired out With cutting eights that day upon the pond, Where, three times slipping from the outer edge, I bump'd the ice into three several stars MORTE D'ARTHUR. His epic, his King Arthur, some twelve books'And then to me demanding why? "Oh, sir, He thought that nothing new was said, or else Something so said 'twas nothing--that a truth Looks freshest in the fashion of the day: God knows : he has a mint of reasons : ask. It pleased me well enough.' 'Nay, nay,' said Hall, • Why take the style of those heroic times ? For nature brings not back the Masto don, Nor we those times; and why should any man Remodel models ? these twelve books of mine Were faint Homeric echoes, nothing worth, Mere chaff andjdraff, much better burnt.' • But I,' Said Francis, “pick'd the eleventh from this hearth And have it : keep a thing, its use will So all day long the noise of battle rolld Among the mountains by the winter sea ; Until King Arthur's table, man by man, Had fallen in Lyonness about their Lord, King Arthur : then, because his wound was deep, The bold Sir Bedivere uplifted him, Sir Bedivere, the last of all his knights, And bore him to a chapel nigh the field, A broken chancel with a broken cross, That stood on a dark strait of barren land. On one side lay the Ocean, and on one Lay a great water, and the moon was full. Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere : • The sequel of to-day unsolders all The goodliest fellowship of famous knights Whereof this world holds record. Such a sleep They sleep---the men I loved. I think that we come. I hoard it as a sugar-plum for Holmes.' He laugh’d, and I, though sleepy, like a horse That hears the corn-bin open, prick'd my ears; For I remember'd Everard's college fame When we were Freshmen : then at my request He brought it ; and the poet little urged, But with some prelude of disparage ment, Read, mouthing out his hollow oes and aes, Deep-chested music, and to this result. Shall never more, at any future time, Delight our souls with talk of knightly deeds, Walking about the gardens and the halls Of Camelot, as in the days that were. i perish by this people which I made, Tho’Merlin sware that I should come again To rule once more—but let what will be, be, I am so deeply smitten thro' the helm That without help I cannot last till morn. Thou therefore take my brand Excalibur, Which was my pride : for thou remem berest how In those old days, one summer noon, an arm Rose up from out the bosom of the lake, Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonder ful, answer And made the bold Sir Bedivere : “I heard the water lapping on the crag, And the long ripple washing in the reeds.' To whom replied King Arthur, much in wrath : • Ah, miserable and unkind, untrue, Unknightly, traitor-hearted! Woe is me! Authority forgets a dying king, Laid widow'd of the power in his eye That bow'd the will. I see thee what thou art, For thou, the latest-left of all my knights, In whom should meet the offices of all, Thou wouldst betray me for the precious hilt; * And if indeed I cast the brand away, Surely a precious thing, one worthy note, Should thus be lost for ever from the earth, Which might have pleased the eyes of many men. What good should follow this, if this were done? What harm, undone? deep harm to dis obey, Seeing obedience is the bond of rule. Were it well to obey then, if a king demand An act unprofitable, against himself? The King is sick, and knows not what he does. What record, or what relic of my lord Should be to aftertime, but empty breath And rumours of a doubt ? but were this kept, Stored in some treasure-house of mighty kings, Some one might show it at a joust of arms, Saying, “King Arthur'ssword, Excalibur, Wrought by the lonely maiden of the Lake. Nine years she wrought it, sitting in the deeps Upon the hidden bases of the hills.” So might some old man speak in the aftertime To all the people, winning reverence. But now much honour and much fame were lost.' So spake he, clouded with his own conceit, And hid Excalibur the second time, And so strode back slow to the wounded King. Then spoke King Arthur, breathing heavily : • What is it thou hast seen? or what hast heard ? Either from lust of gold, or like a girl Valuing the giddy pleasure of the eyes. Yet, for a man may fail in duty twice, And the third time may prosper, get thee hence : But, if thou spare to fling Excalibur, I will arise and slay thee with my hands.' Then quickly rose Sir Bedivere, and ran, And, leaping down the ridges lightly, plunged Among the bulrush-beds, and clutch'd the sword, And strongly wheeld and threw it. The great brand Made lightnings in the splendour of the moon, And flashing round and round, and whirl'd in an arch, Shot like a streamer of the northern morn, Seen where the moving isles of winter shock By night, with noises of the northern sea. So flash'd and fell the brand Excalibur : But ere he dipt the surface, rose an arm Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonder ful, |