MORTE D'ARTHUR. So all day long the noise of battle roll'd Until King Arthur's table, man by man, Had fall'n in Lyonness about their Lord, Sir Bedivere, the last of all his knights, "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. I perish by this people which I made,— Which was my pride for thou rememberest how Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful, In aftertime, this also shall be known: But now delay not: take Excalibur, And fling him far into the middle meer : Watch what thou seëst, and lightly bring me word." To him replied the bold Sir Bedivere : Old knights, and over them the sea-wind sang There drew he forth the brand Excalibur, Of subtlest jewellery. He gazed so long In act to throw but at the last it seem'd That whistled stiff and dry about the marge. 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 meer. This is a shameful thing for men to lie. Yet now, I charge thee, quickly go again As thou art lief and dear, and do the thing I bad thee, watch, and lightly bring me word." Then went Sir Bedivere the second time, Counting the dewy pebbles, fix'd in thought; But when he saw the wonder of the hilt, "And if indeed I cast the brand away, Surely a precious thing, one worthy note, Which might have pleased the eyes of many men. Seeing obedience is the bond of rule. Were it well to obey then, if a king demand The King is sick, and knows not what he does. And rumours of a doubt ? but were this kept, Saying, King Arthur's sword, Excalibur, Wrought by the lonely maiden of the Lake. Nine years she wrought it, sitting in the deeps |