And swung the ruby carcanet. She cried,
'The collar of some Order, which our King
Hath newly founded, all for thee, my soul,
For thee, to yield thee grace beyond thy peers."

'Not so, my Queen,' he said, 'but the red fruit Grown on a magic oak-tree in mid-heaven,

And won by Tristram as a tourney-prize,
And hither brought by Tristram for his last
Love-offering and peace-offering unto thee.'

He rose, he turn'd, then, flinging round her neck, Claspt it, and cried 'Thine Order, O my Queen!" But, while he bow'd to kiss the jewell'd throat, Out of the dark, just as the lips had touch'd, Behind him rose a shadow and a shriek

'Mark's way,' said Mark, and clove him thro' the

brain.

That night came Arthur home, and while he

climb'd,

All in a death-dumb autumn-dripping gloom,
The stairway to the hall, and look'd and saw

The great Queen's bower was dark,-about his

feet

A voice clung sobbing till he question'd it, 'What art thou?' and the voice about his feet

Sent up an answer, sobbing, 'I am thy fool,

And I shall never make thee smile again.'

GUINEVERE.