"Now see I by thine eyes that this is done. Speak out what is it thou hast heard, or seen!" And answer made the bold Sir Bedivere: "Sir King, I closed mine eyelids, lest the gems Nor shall see, here or elsewhere, till I die, Then with both hands I flung him, wheeling him, That caught him by the hilt, and brandish'd him And answer made King Arthur, breathing hard : "My end draws nigh; 'tis time that I were gone. 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 rose, Slowly, with pain, reclining on his arm, As in a picture. Him Sir Bedivere Remorsefully regarded thro' his tears, And would have spoken, but he found not words, But, as he walk'd, King Arthur panted hard, 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 Sharp-smitten with the dint of armed heels And the long glories of the winter moon. Then saw they how there hove a dusky barge, Beneath them; and descending they were ware by these Three Queens with crowns of gold—and from them A rose cry that shiver'd to the tingling stars, And, as it were one voice, an agony Of lamentation, like a wind, that shrills All night in a waste land, where no one comes, Or hath come, since the making of the world. Then murmur'd Arthur, " Place me in the barge," And to the barge they came. There those three Queens Put forth their hands, and took the King, and wept. But she, that rose the tallest of them all And fairest, laid his head upon her lap, And loosed the shatter'd casque, and chafed his hands, And call'd him by his name, complaining loud, And dropping bitter tears against his brow Striped with dark blood: for all his face was white Smote by the fresh beam of the springing east ; And all his greaves and cuisses dash'd with drops Of onset ; and the light and lustrous curls— That made his forehead like a rising sun High from the däis-throne were parch'd with dust, Or, clotted into points and hanging loose, Mix'd with the knightly growth that fringed his lips. So like a shatter'd column lay the King; Not like that Arthur who, with lance in rest, Then loudly cried the bold Sir Bedivere, "Ah! my Lord Arthur, whither shall I go? Where shall I hide my But now the whole ROUND TABLE is dissolved And the days darken round me, and the years, Among new men, strange faces, other minds.” And slowly answer'd Arthur from the barge : "The old order changeth, yielding place to new, And God fulfils himself in many ways, Lest one good custom should corrupt the world. I have lived my life, and that which I have done Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer Than this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy voice Rise like a fountain for me night and day. For what are men better than sheep or goats That nourish a blind life within the brain, If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer Both for themselves and those who call them friend? For so the whole round earth is every way |