It clack'd and cackled louder. Would love the gleams of good that broke | But ah! the more the white goose laid It clutter'd here, it chuckled there; "A quinsy choke thy cursed note!" Then yelp'd the cur, and yawl'd the cat ; As head and heels upon the floor He took the goose upon his arm, He utter'd words of scorning; The wild wind rang from park and plain, And half the chimneys tumbled. The glass blew in, the fire blew out, The blast was hard and harder. Her cap blew off, her gown blew up, And a whirlwind clear'd the larder: And while on all sides breaking loose ENGLISH IDYLS AND OTHER POEMS. THE EPIC. (PUBLISHED 1842.) AT Francis Allen's on the Christmaseve, The game of forfeits done the girls all The host, and I sat round the wassailbowl, Then half-way ebb'd: and there we held a talk, How all the old honor had from Christmas 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, Fell in a doze; and half-awake I heard The parson taking wide and wider sweeps, Now harping on the church-commission So all day long the noise of battle roll'd The bold Sir Bedivere uplifted him, Lay a great water, and the moon was full. Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedi vere : "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 Shall nevermore, 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. 1 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 rememberest 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 By zig-zag paths, and juts of pointed rock, Came on the shining levels of the lake. There drew he forth the brand Excali bur, Ando'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 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 Bedi vere : "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 took it, and have worn it, like a And the wild water lapping on the crag.' across king: 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. stepping down He, "" To whom replied King Arthur, faint and pale: "Thou hast betray'd thy nature and thy name, Not rendering true answer, as beseem'd I bade thee, watch, and lightly bring me word." Then went Sir Bedivere the second time Across the ridge, and paced beside the mere, Counting the dewy pebbles, fix'd in thought; But when he saw the wonder of the hilt, How curiously and strangely chased, he smote His palms together, and he cried aloud. "And if indeed I cast the brand away, Surely a precious thing, one worthy note, Should thus be lost for ever from the earth, | The King is sick, and knows not what Which might have pleased the eyes of he does. What record, or what relic of my lord Stored in some treasure-house of mighty Some one might show it at a joust of arms, 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 honor and much fame were lost." So spake he, clouded with his own conceit, And hid Excalibur the second time, Then spoke King Arthur, breathing heavily: "What is it thou hast seen? or what hast heard?" And answer 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 : 66 Ah, miserable and unkind, untrue, hilt; Either from lust of gold, or like a girl But, if thou spare to fling Excalibur, Among the bulrush-beds, and clutch'd the sword, And strongly wheel'd and threw it. The great brand Made lightnings in the splendor 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 : "Sir King, I closed mine eyelids, lest the gems Should blind my purpose, for I never saw, But when I look'd again, behold an arm, Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful, That caught him by the hilt, and brandish'd him Three times, and drew him under in the 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." So saying, from the pavement he half |