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 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

smote

His palms together, and he cried aloud:

'And if indeed I cast the brand away, Surely a precious thing, one worthy note, 140 Should thus be lost forever 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 disobey,

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 150 And rumors 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's sword, Excalibur,

I fear it is too late, and I shall die.' But the other swiftly strode from ridge to ridge,

Clothed with his breath, and looking, as he walk'd,

Larger than human on the frozen hills.
He heard the deep behind him, and a cry
Before. His own thought drove him like a
goad.

Dry clash'd his harness in the icy caves And barren chasms, and all to left and right

The bare black cliff clang'd round him, as he based

His feet on juts of slippery crag that rang

240

Sharp - smitten with the dint of armed heels

And on a sudden, lo! the level lake,
And the long glories of the winter moon.
Then saw they how there hove a dusky
barge,

Dark as a funeral scarf from stem to stern,
Beneath them; and descending they were