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“Sir King, I closed mine eyelids, lest the Before. His own thought drove him, like gems
185 Should blind my purpose, for I never saw, Dry clashed his harness in the icy caves Nor shall see, here or elsewhere, till I die, And barren chasms, and all to left and Not though I live three lives of mortal right men,
155 The bare black cliff clanged round him, as So great a miracle as yonder hilt.
he based Then with both hands I flung him, wheel His feet on juts of slippery crag that rang ing him;
Sharp-smitten with the dint of armed But when I looked again, behold an arm, heels
190 Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonder- And on a sudden, lo! the level lake,
And the long glories of the winter moon. That caught him by the hilt, and bran- Then saw they how there hove a dusky dished him
barge, Three times, and drew him under in the Dark as a funeral scarf from stem to stern, mere.”
Beneath them; and descending they were And answer made King Arthur, breath ware ing hard:
That all the decks were dense with stately “My end draws nigh; 'tis time that I were forms gone.
Black-stoled, black-hooded, like a dreamMake broad thy shoulders to receive my by these weight,
Three Queens with crowns of gold-and And bear me to the margin; yet I fear 165 I from them rose My wound hath taken cold, and I shall A cry that shivered to the tingling stars,
And, as it were one voice, an agony 200 So saying, from the pavement he half Of lamentation, like a wind that shrills rose,
All night in a waste land, where no one Slowly, with pain, reclining on his arm, comes, And looking wistfully with wide blue eyes Or hath come, since the making of the As in a picture. Him Sir Bedivere 170 world. Remorsefully regarded through his tears, Then murmured Arthur, “Place me in And would have spoken, but he found not the barge,” words,
And to the barge they came. There those Then took with care, and kneeling on one three Queens
Put forth their hands, and took the King, O'er both his shoulders drew the languid and wept. hands,
But she that rose the tallest of them all And rising bore him through the place of And fairest, laid his head upon her lap, tombs.
175 And loosed the shattered casque, and But, as he walked, King Arthur panted 1 chafed his hands, hard,
And called him by his name, complaining Like one that feels a nightmare on his loud, bed
And dropping bitter tears against his When all the house is mute. So sighed the brow king,
Striped with dark blood; for all his face Muttering and murmuring at his ear, was white “Quick, quick:
And colorless, and like the withered moon I fear it is too late, and I shall die.” 180 Smote by the fresh beam of the springing But the other swiftly strode from ridge to
And all his greaves and cuisses? dashed Clothed with his breath, and looking, as he with drops
Of onset; and the light and lustrous curlsLarger than human on the frozen hills. That made his forehead like a rising sun He heard the deep behind him, and a cry / ileg guards.
: thigh guards
High from the dais-throne-were parched If, knowing God, they lift not hands of with dust;
prayer Or, clotted into points and hanging loose, Both for themselves and those who call Mixed with the knightly growth that them friend? fringed his lips.
220 For so the whole round earth is every way So like a shattered column lay the King; Bound by gold chains about the feet of Not like that Arthur who, with lance in God.
But now farewell. I am going a long way From spur to plume a star of tournament, With these thou seest—if indeed I goShot through the lists at Camelot, and For all my mind is clouded with a doubtcharged
To the island-valley of Avilion; Before the eyes of ladies and of kings. 225 Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow,
Then loudly cried the bold Sir Bedivere: Nor ever wind blows loudly, but it lies 261 “Ah! my Lord Arthur, whither shall I go? Deep-meadowed, happy, fair with orchardWhere shall I hide my forehead and my lawns eyes?
And bowery hollows crowned with summer For now I see the true old times are dead, sea, When every morning brought a noble | Where I will heal me of my grievous chance,
230 wound.” And every chance brought out a noble So said he, and the barge with oar and • knight.
- 265 Such times have been not since the light Moved from the brink, like some fullthat led
breasted swan The holy Elders with the gift of myrrh. That, fluting a wild carol ere her death, But now the whole ROUND TABLE is dis- Ruffles her pure cold plume, and takes the solved
flood Which was an image of the mighty world; With swarthy webs. Long stood Sir BedAnd I, the last, go forth companionless, 236 ivere And the days darken round me, and the Revolving many memories, till the hull years,
Looked one black dot against the verge of Among new men, strange faces, other I dawn,
And on the mere the wailing died away. And slowly answered Arthur from the
barge: “The old order changeth, yielding place
ULYSSES to new,
240 And God fulfils Himself in many ways, | It little profits that an idle king, Lest one good custom should corrupt the By this still hearth, among these barren world.
crags, Comfort thyself: what comfort is in me? | Matched with an agèd wife, I mete and dole I have lived my life, and that which I have | Unequal laws unto a savage race, done
That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know May He within Himself make pure! but not me. thou,
245 | I cannot rest from travel; I will drink If thou shouldst never see my face again, Life to the lees. All times I have enjoyed Pray for my soul. More things are wrought Greatly, have suffered greatly, both with by prayer
those Than this world dreams of. Wherefore, That loved me, and alone; on shore, and let thy voice
when Rise like a fountain for me night and Through scudding drifts the rainy Hyades day.
Vexed the dim sea. I am become a name; For what are men better than sheep or For always roaming with a hungry heart 12 goats
250 | Much have I seen and known,-cities of That nourish a blind life within the brain, I men,
And manners, climates, councils, govern- | The long day wanes; the slow moon ments,
climbs; the deep Myself not least, but honored of them Moans round with many voices. Come, all,
my friends, And drunk delight of battle with my peers, 'Tis not too late to seek a newer world. Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy. Push off, and sitting well in order smite I am a part of all that I have met;
The sounding furrows; for my purpose Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough holds Gleams that untravelled world, whose To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths oo margin fades
20 Of all the western stars, until I die. Forever and forever when I move.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us How dull it is to pause, to make an end, down; To rust unburnished, not to shine in use! It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles, As though to breathe were life! Life piled And see the great Achilles, whom we on life
knew. Were all too little, and of one to me 25 Though much is taken, much abides; and Little remains: but every hour is saved
65 From that eternal silence, something more, We are not now that strength which in old A bringer of new things; and vile it were days For some three suns to store and hoard Moved earth and heaven; that which we myself,
are, we are; And this gray spirit yearning in desire 30 One equal temper of heroic hearts, To follow knowledge like a sinking star, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in Beyond the utmost bound of human will thought.
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield. This is my son, mine own Telemachus, To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfil 35 This labor, by slow prudence to make mild
LOCKSLEY HALL A rugged people, and through soft degrees Subdue them to the useful and the good. Comrades, leave me here a little, while as Most blameless is he, centred in the sphere yet 'tis early morn: Of common duties, decent not to fail 40 Leave me here, and when you want me, In offices of tenderness, and pay
sound upon the bugle-horn. Meet adoration to my household gods, When I am gone. He works his work, I 'Tis the place, and all around it, as of old, mine.
the curlews call, There lies the port; the vessel puffs her Dreary gleams about the moorland flying sail;
over Locksley Hall; There gloom the dark broad seas. My mariners,
Locksley Hall, that in the distance overSouls that have toiled, and wrought, and looks the sandy tracts, thought with me,
And the hollow ocean-ridges roaring into That ever with a frolic welcome took
cataracts. The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed
| Many a night from yonder ivied casement, Free hearts, free foreheads, -you and I are ere I went to rest,
Did I look on great Orion sloping slowly Old age hath yet his honor and his toil. 50 to the West. Death closes all; but something ere the end, Some work of noble note, may yet be done, Many a night I saw the Pleiads, rising Not unbecoming men that strove with through the mellow shade, Gods.
Glitter like a swarm of fire-flies tangled in The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks; a silver braid.
Here about the beach I wandered, nourish
ing a youth sublime With the fairy tales of science, and the
long result of time;
Love took up the harp of Life, and smote
on all the chords with might; Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling,
passed in music out of sight.
When the centuries behind me like a fruit- Many a morning on the moorland did we ful land reposed;
hear the copses ring, When I clung to all the present for the And her whisper thronged my pulses with promise that it closed;
the fulness of the spring.
When I dipped into the future far as Many an evening by the waters did we human eye could see;
I watch the stately ships, Saw the vision of the world, and all the And our spirits rushed together at the wonder that would be.
touching of the lips.
And I said, “My cousin Amy, speak, and Yet it shall be; thou shalt lower to his speak the truth to me,
level day by day, Trust me, cousin, all the current of my | What is fine within thee growing coarse being sets to thee.”
to sympathize with clay.
On her pallid cheek and forehead came a As the husband is, the wife is; thou art color and a light,
mated with a clown, As I have seen the rosy red flushing in the And the grossness of his nature will have northern night.
I weight to drag thee down.
And she turned-her bosom shaken with
a sudden storm of sighs-All the spirit deeply dawning in the dark
of hazel eyes,
He will hold thee, when his passion shall
have spent its novel force, Something better than his dog, a little
dearer than his horse.
Saying, “I have hid my feelings, fearing | What is this? his eyes are heavy; think not they should do me wrong;”.
they are glazed with wine. Saying, “Dost thou love me, cousin?”. Go to him, it is thy duty; kiss him, take
weeping, “I have loved thee long." 30 I his hand in thine.
Love took up the glass of Time, and turned
it in his glowing hands; Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself
in golden sands.
It may be my lord is weary, that his brain
is overwrought; Soothe him with thy finer fancies, touch
him with thy lighter thought.
Well—'tis well that I should bluster!- And an eye shall vex thee, looking ancient hadst thou less unworthy proved
kindness on thy pain.
S5 Would to God-for I had loved thee more Turn thee, turn thee on thy pillow; get than ever wife was loved.
thee to thy rest again. Am I mad, that I should cherish that which Nay, but Nature brings thee solace; for a bears but bitter fruit?
- 65 tender voice will cry. I will pluck it from my bosom, though my 'T is a purer life than thine, a lip to drain heart be at the root.
thy trouble dry. Never, though my mortal summers to such Baby lips will laugh me down; my latest length of years should come
rival brings thee rest. As the many-wintered crow that leads the Baby fingers, waxen touches, press me clanging rookery home.
from the mother's breast. 90 Where is comfort? in division of the records Oh, the child too clothes the father with a of the mind?.
dearness not his due. Can I part her from herself, and love her, Half is thine and half is his; it will be as I knew her, kind?
70 I worthy of the two.
I remember one that perished; sweetly
did she speak and move; Such a one do I remember, whom to look
at was to love.
Oh, I see thee old and formal, fitted to thy
petty part, With a little hoard of maxims preaching
down a daughter's heart.
Can I think of her as dead, and love her
for the love she bore? No-she never loved me truly; love is love
“They were dangerous guides, the feelings
-she herself was not exempt - 95 Truly, she herself had suffered”—Perish
in thy self-contempt!
Comfort? comfort scorned of devils! this is Overlive it-lower yet-be happy! wheretruth the poet sings,
75 fore should I care? That a sorrow's crown of sorrow is remem- | I myself must mix with action, lest I wither bering happier things.