310 So flashed and fell the brand Excalibur: But ere he dipped the surface, rose an arm Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful, And caught him by the hilt, and brandished him Three times, and drew him under in the mere.
315 And lightly went the other to the King.
Then spoke King Arthur, drawing thicker breath: '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:
320 'Sir King, I closed mine eyelids, lest the gems Should blind my purpose, for I never saw, Nor shall see, here or elsewhere, till I die, Not though I live three lives of mortal men, So great a miracle as yonder hilt.
325 Then with both hands I flung him, wheeling him; But when I looked again, behold an arm, Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful, That caught him by the hilt, and brandished him Three times, and drew him under in the mere.'
330 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.'
335 So saying, from the pavement he half rose, Slowly, with pain, reclining on his arm, And looking wistfully with wide blue eyes As in a picture. Him Sir Bedivere Remorsefully regarded through his tears,
340 And would have spoken, but he found not words; Then took with care, and kneeling on one knee, O'er both his shoulders drew the languid hands, And rising bore him through the place of tombs.
4. The northern lights. 5. Where the icebergs collide.
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THE PASSING OF ARTHUR / 1209
But, as he walked, King Arthur panted hard,
345 Like one that feels a nightmare on his bed When all the house is mute. So sighed the King, Muttering and murmuring at his ear, 'Quick, quick! I fear it is too late, and I shall die.' But the other swiftly strode from ridge to ridge,
350 Clothed with his breath, and looking, as he walked, 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 clashed his harness in the icy caves
355 And barren chasms, and all to left and right The bare black cliff clanged round him, as he based His feet on juts of slippery crag that rang Sharp-smitten with the dint of armed heels? And on a sudden, lo! the level lake,
360 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 ware? aware That all the decks were dense with stately forms,
365 Black-stoled, black-hooded, like a dream?by these Three Queens with crowns of gold: and from them rose A cry that shivered to the tingling stars, And, as it were one voice, an agony Of lamentation, like a wind that shrills
370 All night in a waste land, where no one comes, Or hath come, since the making of the world.
Then murmured Arthur, 'Place me in the barge.' So to the barge they came. There those three Queens Put forth their hands, and took the King, and wept.
375 But she, that rose the tallest of them all And fairest, laid his head upon her lap, And loosed the shattered casque,0 and chafed his hands, helmet And called him by his name, complaining loud, And dropping bitter tears against a brow
380 Striped with dark blood: for all his face was white And colorless, and like the withered moon Smote by the fresh beam of the springing east; And all his greaves and cuisses6 dashed with drops Of onset;7 and the light and lustrous curls?
385 That made his forehead like a rising sun High from the dais-throne?were parched with dust; Or, clotted into points and hanging loose, Mixed with the knightly growth that fringed his lips. So like a shattered column lay the King;
390 Not like that Arthur who, with lance in rest,
6. Armor to protect the front of the thighs. 7. Blood from battle. 'Greaves': armor to protect the leg below the knee.
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1 138 / ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON
From spur to plume a star of tournament, Shot through the lists at Camelot, and charged Before the eyes of ladies and of kings.
Then loudly cried the bold Sir Bedivere:
395 'Ah! my Lord Arthur, whither shall I go? Where shall I hide my forehead and my eyes? For now I see the true old times are dead, When every morning brought a noble chance, And every chance brought out a noble knight.
400 Such times have been not since the light8 that led The holy Elders with the gift of myrrh. But now the whole Round Table is dissolved Which was an image of the mighty world, And I, the last, go forth companionless,
405 And the days darken round me, and the years, Among new men, strange faces, other minds.'
