But now farewell. I am going a long way With these thou scëst-if indeed I go (For all my mind is clouded with a doubt) — To the island-valley of Avilion; Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow, Nor ever wind blows loudly; but it lies So said he, and the barge with oar and sail Moved from the brink, like some full-breasted Swan That, fluting a wild carol ere her death, Ruffles her pure cold plume, and takes the flood With swarthy webs. Long stood Sir Bedivere Revolving many memories, till the hull Look'd one black dot against the verge of dawn, And on the mere the wailing died away. But when that moan had past for evermore, The stillness of the dead world's winter dawn Amazed him, and he groan'd, 'The King is gone.' And therewithal came on him the weird rhyme, 'From the great deep to the great deep he goes.' Whereat he slowly turn'd and slowly clomb The last hard footstep of that iron crag; Thence mark'd the black hull moving yet, and cried, He passes to be King among the dead, And after healing of his grievous wound He comes again; but—if he come no more— On that high day, when, clothed with living light, Of Arthur, who should help him at his need?' Then from the dawn it seem'd there came, but faint As from beyond the limit of the world, Like the last echo born of a great cry, Sounds, as if some fair city were one voice Thereat once more he moved about, and clomb Ev'n to the highest he could climb, and saw, Straining his eyes beneath an arch of hand, Or thought he saw, the speck that bare the King, Down that long water opening on the deep Somewhere far off, pass on and on, and go From less to less and vanish into light. And the new sun rose bringing the new year. THE END. |