THE PASSING OF ARTHUR.

THAT story which the bold Sir Bedi(vere,

First made and latest left of all the (knights,

Told, when the man was no more than (a voice

In the white winter of his age, to those Whith whom he dwelt, new faces, other (minds.

Before that last weird battle in the (west

There came on Arthur sleeping, Gawain (kill'd

In Lancelot's war, the ghost of Gawain (blown

Along a wandering wind, and past his ear Went shrilling Hollow, hollow all de(light!

Hail, king! to-morrow thou shalt pass (away.

Farewell! there is an isle of rest for thee. And I am blown along a wandering wind, And hollow, hollow, hollow all delight." And fainter onward, like wild birds that (change

Their season in the night and wail their (way

From cloud to cloud, down the long wind (the dream

Shrill'd; but in going mingled with dim (cries

Far in the moonlit haze among the hills, As of some lonely city sack'd by night, When all is lost, and wife and child with (wail

Pass to new lords; and Arthur woke and (call'd,

Who spake? A dream. O light upon the (wind.

Thine, Gawain, was the voice — are these (dim cries

Thine? or doth all that haunts the waste (and wild

Mourn, knowing it will go along with (me?"

This heard the bold Sir Bedivere and (spake:

O me, my king, let pass whatever will, Elves, and the harmless glamour of the (field;

But in their stead thy name and glory (cling

To all high places like a golden cloud For ever: but as yet thou shall not pass. Light was Gawain in life, and light in (death

Is Gawain, for the ghost is as the man; And care not thou for dreams from him, (but rise

I hear the steps of Modred in the west, And with him many of thy people and (knights

Once thine, whom thou hast loved, but (grosser grow

Than heathen, spitting at their vows and (thee.

Right well in heart they know thee for (the king.

Arise, go forth and conquer as of old."

Than spake King Arthur to Sir Bedi(vere:

Far other is this battle in the west Whereto we move, than when we strove (in youth,

And thrust the heathen from the Roman (wall,

And shook him thro' the north. Ill doom (is mine

To war against my people and my knights The king who fights his people fights him(self.

And they my knights, who loved me once, (the stroke

That strikes them dead is as my death (to me.

Yet let us hence, and find or feel a way Thro' this blind haze, which ever since (I saw

One lying in the dust at Almesbury, Hath folded in the passes of the world."

Then rose the king and moved his host (by night,

And ever push'd Sir Modred, league by (league,

Back to the sunset bound of Lyonesse
A land of old upheaven from the abyss
By fire, to sink into the abyss again;
Where fragments of forgotten peoples
(dwelt,

And the long mountains ended in a coast
Of ever-shifting sand, and far away
The phantom circle of a moaning sea.

There the pursuer could pursue no more, And he that fled no further fly the king; And there, that day when the great light (of heaven

Burn'd at his lowest in the rolling year, On the waste sand by the waste sea they (closed.

Nor ever yet had Arthur fought a fight Like this ast, dim, weird battle of the west. A deathwhite mist slept over sand and sea: Whereof the chill, to him who breathed (it, drew

Down with his blood, till all his heart (was cold.

With formless fear; and ev'n on Arthur fell Confusion, since he saw not whom he fought, For friend and foe were shadows in the mist, And friend slew friend not knowing whom (he slew;

And some had visions out of golden youth, And some beheld the faces of old ghosts Look in upon the battle; and in the mist Was many a noble deed, many a base, And chance and craft and strength in (single fights,

And ever and anon with host to host Shocks, and the splintering spear, the (hard mail hewn,

Shield-breakings, and the clash of brands, (the crash

Of battleaxes on shatter'd helms, and shrieks After the Christ, of those who falling down Looked up for heaven, and only saw the mist; And shouts of heathen and the traitor (knights,

Oaths, insult, filth, and monstrous blas(phemies,

Sweat, writhing, anguish, labouring of (the lungs

In that close mist, and crying for the light, Moans of the dying, and voices of the dead.

Last, as by some one deathbed after wail Of suffering, silence follows, or thro' death Or deathlike swoon, thus over all that shore, Save for some whisper of the seething seas, A dead hush fell; but when the dolorous day Grew drearier toward twilight falling, came A bitter wind, clear from the North, and (blew

The mist aside, and with that wind the tide Rose, and the pale king glanced across (the field

Of battle: but no man was moving there;

Nor any cry of Christian heard thereon, Nor yet of heathen; only the wan wave Brake in among dead faces, to and fro Swaying the helpless hands, and up and (down

Tumbling the hollow helmets, of the fallen, And shiver'd brands that once had fought (with Rome,

And rolling far along the gloomy shores The voice of days of old and days to be

Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere, And whiter than the mist that all day long Had held the field of battle was the King:

Hearest thou this great voice that (shakes the world,

And wastes the narrow realm whereon (we move,

And beats upon the faces of the dead, My dead, as tho' they had not died for (me?

O Bedivere, for on my heart hath fall'n Confusion, till I know not what I am, Nor whence I am, nor whether I be king. Behold, I seem but king among the dead."

Then spake the bold Sir Bedivere: „My (King,

King everywhere! and so the dead have (kings,

There also will I worship thee as king. Yet still thy life is whole, and still I live Who love thee; but who hates thee, he (that brought

The heathen back among us, yonder stands, Modred, unharm'd, the traitor of thine (house."

Then spake the King: My house hath (been my doom.

But call not thou this traitor of my house Who hath but dwelt beneath one roof (with me.

My house are rather they who sware my (vows,

Yea, even while they brake them, own'd (me king.

And well for thee; saying in my dark hour, When all the purport of my throne hath fail' That quick or dead thou holdest me for king. King am I, whatsoever be their cry; And one last act of kinghood shalt thou see Yet, ere I pass." And uttering this the king Made at the man: then Modred smote (his liege

Hard on that helm which many a heathen (sword

Had beaten thin; while Arthur at one bowl,
Striking the last stroke with Excalibur,
Slew him, and all but slain himself, he fell.
So all day long the noise of battle roll'd
Among the mountains by the winter sea;
Until King Arthur's Table, man by man,
Had fall'n in Lyonesse about their lord,
King Arthur. Then, because his wound
(was deep,

The bold Sir Bedivere uplifted him,
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
(that we

the men I loved. I think

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 soo 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 remember-
(est how

In those old days, one summer noon, an arm
Rose up from out the bosom of the lake,
Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful,
Holding the sword and how I row'd across
And took it, and have worn it, like a king;
And, wheresoever I am sung or told
In aftertime, this also shall be known:
But now delay not: take Excalibur,
And fling him far into the middle mere:
Watch what thou seest, 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 helmA little thing may harm a wounded man; Yet I thy hest will all perform at full,

Watch what I see, and lightly bring the (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,
By zig-zag paths, and juts of pointed rock,.
(stepping down
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 jewelry, He gazed so long
This way and that dividing the swift mind,
That both his eyes were dazzled as he stood,
In act to throw: but at the last it seem'd
Better to leave Excalibur conceal'd
There in the many-knotted waterflags,
That whistled stiff and dry about the
(marge.

So strode he back slow to the wounded King.

Then spake king Arthur to Sir Bedivere: Hast thou perform'd my mission which (I gave?

What is it thou hast seen? or what hast (heard?"

And answer made the bold Sir Bedivere: "I heard the ripple washing in the reeds, And the wild water lapping on the crag." To whom replied King Arthur, faint and (pale:

Thou hast betray'd thy nature and thy (name,

Not rendering true answer, as beseem'd
Thy fealty, nor like a noble knight:
For surer sign had follow'd, either hand,
Or voice, or else a motion of the mere.
This is a shameful thing for men to lie.
Yet now, I charge thee, quickly go again,
I bade thee, watch, and lightly bring me
As thou art lief and dear, and do the thing
(word."

Then went Sir Bedivere the second time