And looking wistfully with wide blue eyes 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, 340 345 350 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 355 The bare black cliff clang'd round him, as he based His feet on juts of slippery crag that rang Sharp-smitten with the dint of arméd heels 360 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 That all the decks were dense with stately forms, Black-stoled, black-hooded, like a dream - by these 365 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, 370 Or hath come, since the making of the world. Then murmur'd 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. And fairest, laid his head upon her lap, 375 And loosed the shattered casque, and chafed his hands, And dropping bitter tears against his brow Striped with dark blood: for all his face was white 380 And colorless, and like the wither'd moon were parch'd with dust; Or, clotted into points and hanging loose, Mix'd with the knightly growth that fringed his lips. Not like that Arthur, who, with lance in rest, From spur to plume a star of tournament, 385 390 Then loudly cried the bold Sir Bedivere: 395 400 405 Lest one good custom should corrupt the world. And slowly answered Arthur from the barge: The old order changeth, yielding place to new, And God fulfils himself in many ways, 410 Comfort thyself: what comfort is in me? 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 415 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 420 Both for themselves and those who call them friend? 425 (For all my mind is clouded with a doubt) - 430 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, 435 Ruffles her pure cold plume, and takes the flood Look'd one black dot against the verge of dawn, But when that moan had past for evermore, 440 From the great deep to the great deep he goes.' 445 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 comes again; but if he come no more O me, 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, 450 455 Sounds, as if some fair city were one voice 460 Around a king returning from his wars. 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, 465 THE SPLENDOR FALLS. THE splendor falls on castle walls The long light shakes across the lakes, Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, O hark, O hear! how thin and clear, 5 HOME THEY BROUGHT HER WARRIOR DEAD. 303 O sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying: Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. O love, they die in yon rich sky, They faint on hill or field or river: Our echoes roll from soul to soul, And grow for ever and for ever. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying. IO 15 |