When all the house is mute. So sigh'd the King, I fear it is too late, and I shall die." 66 But the other swiftly strode from ridge to ridge, He heard the deep behind him, and a cry Before. His own thought drove him like a goad. And barren chasms, and all to left and right Then saw they how there hove a dusky barge, Three Queens with crowns of gold- and from them rose A 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 dropping bitter tears against his brow Striped with dark blood: for all his face was white And colorless, and like the wither'd moon Smote by the fresh beam of the springing east; And all his greaves and cuisses dash'd with drops High from the dais-throne - were parch'd with dust; Mix'd with the knightly growth that fringed his lips. From spur to plume a star of tournament, ? Then loudly cried the bold Sir Bedivere, But now the whole ROUND TABLE is dissolved And slowly answered 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 If thou shouldst never see my face again, 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? Bound by gold chains about the feet of God. Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow, So said he, and the barge with oar and sail Ruffles her pure cold plume, and takes the flood Look'd one black dot against the verge of dawn, Here ended Hall, and our last light, that long Had wink'd and threaten'd darkness, flared and fell: At which the Parson, sent to sleep with sound, And waked with silence, grunted "Good!" but we Sat rapt it was the tone with which he read — Perhaps some modern touches here and there Redeem'd it from the charge of nothingness. Or else we loved the man, and prized his work; I know not: but we sitting, as I said, The cock crew loud; as at that time of year The lusty bird takes every hour for dawn: Then Francis, muttering, like a man ill-used, "There now - that's nothing!" drew a little back, And drove his heel into the smoulder'd log, That sent a blast of sparkles up the flue: And so to bed; where yet in sleep I seem'd To sail with Arthur under looming shores, Point after point; till on to dawn, when dreams Begin to feel the truth and stir of day, To me, methought, who waited with a crowd, There came a bark that, blowing forward, bore King Arthur, like a modern gentleman Of stateliest port; and all the people cried, That with the sound I woke, and heard indeed The clear church-bells ring in the Christmas morn. is morning is the mong ད་༦ སས་ད My Eustace might have sat for Hercules; A certain miracle of symmetry, A miniature of loveliness, all grace Summ'd up and closed in little; -Juliet, she To sail with Arthur under looming shores, Of stateliest port; and all the people cried, That with the sound I woke, and heard indeed The clear church-bells ring in the Christmas morn. |