MORTE D'ARTHUR. So all day long the noise of battle roll'd The bold Sir Bedivere uplifted him, Then spake King Arthur to Sir 'The sequel of to-day unsolders all The goodliest fellowship of famous knights Whereof this world holds record. Such And fling him far into the middle mere: Watch what thou seëst, and lightly bring me word.' To him replied the bold Sir Bedivere: 'It is not meet, Sir King, to leave thee thus, Aidless, alone, and smitten thro' the helm. A little thing may harm a wounded man. Yet I thy hest will all perform at full, Watch what I see, and lightly bring thee word.' So saying, from the ruin'd shrine he stept And in the moon athwart the place of tombs, Where lay the mighty bones of ancient men, Old knights, and over them the sea-wind sang Shrill, chill, with flakes of foam. He, stepping down By zig-zag paths, and juts of pointed rock, Came on the shining levels of the lake. There drew he forth the brand Excalibur, And o'er him, drawing it, the winter moon, Brightening the skirts of a long cloud, ran forth And sparkled keen with frost against the hilt: For all the haft twinkled with diamond sparks, Myriads of topaz-lights, and jacinth-work Of subtlest jewellery. He gazed so long That both his eyes were dazzled, as he stood, This way and that dividing the swift mind, In act to throw: but at the last it seem'd marge. So strode he back slow to the wounded King. Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedi vere: 'Hast thou perform'd my mission which I gave? What is it thou hast seen? or what hast heard?' |