Legends of King Arthur and His Court

Első borító
Ginn, 1901 - 126 oldal

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102. oldal - A maiden knight — to me is given Such hope, I know not fear; I yearn to breathe the airs of heaven That often meet me here. I muse on joy that will not cease, Pure spaces clothed in living beams, Pure lilies of eternal peace, Whose...
100. oldal - The splinter'd spear-shafts crack and fly, The horse and rider reel; 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
8. oldal - I made them lay their hands in mine, and swear To reverence the King as if he were Their conscience, and their conscience as their King, To break the heathen and uphold the Christ, To ride abroad redressing human wrongs, To speak no slander, no, nor listen to it, To honor his own word as if his God's, To lead sweet lives in purest chastity. To love one maiden only, cleave to her. And worship her by years of noble deeds Until they won her...
100. oldal - I fair thro' faith and prayer A virgin heart in work and will. When down the stormy crescent goes, A light before me swims, Between dark stems the forest glows, I hear a noise of hymns: 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, The shrill bell rings, the censer swings, And solemn chaunts resound between.
124. oldal - From spur to plume a star of tournament, Shot thro' the lists at Camelot, and charged Before the eyes of ladies and of kings.
68. oldal - Sweet is true love tho' given in vain, in vain ; And sweet is death who puts an end to pain : I know not which is sweeter, no, not I. 'Love, art thou sweet? then bitter death must be : Love, thou art bitter ; sweet is death to me.
99. oldal - 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.
102. oldal - So pass I hostel, hall, and grange; By bridge and ford, by park and pale, All-arm'd I ride, whate'er betide, Until I find the holy Grail.
117. oldal - 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.
122. oldal - And answer made King Arthur, breathing hard: " My end draws nigh; 'tis time that I were gone. Make broad thy shoulders to receive my weight, And bear me to the margin ; yet I fear My wound hath taken cold, and I shall die.

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