Idylls of the King

And Arthur came, and Labouring up the pass . . .

And Lancelot bode a little, till he saw
Which were the weaker; then he hurl'd into it
Against the stronger . . . .

. . . and on the mount
Of Badon I myself beheld the King
Charge at the head of all his Table Round . . . .

. . . and I saw him, after, stand
High on a heap of slain, from spur to plume
Red as the rising sun with heathen blood . . .

For silent, tho' he greeted her, she stood
Rapt on his face as if it were a God's.

There two stood arm'd, and kept the door; to whom,
Akk up the marble stair, tier over tier . . .

Elaine, the lily maid of Astolat,
High in her chamber up a tower to the east
Guarded the sacred shield of Lancelot . .

But the wild Queen, who saw not, burst away
To weep and wail in secret

So toward that shrine which then in all the realm
Was richest, Arthur leading, slowly went . . .

Lancelot, whom the Lady of the Lake
Stole from his mother--as the story runs--
(changed in later editions to:
Lancelot, whom the Lady of the Lake
Caught from his mother's arms--the wondrous one . . .)

Her face was near, and as we kiss the child . . .

Saying which she seized,
And, thro' the casement standing wide for heat,
Flung them, and down they flash'd, and smote the stream.

Wroth to be wroth at such a worm, refrain'd
From even a word . . .

Here by God's rood is the one maid for me.

. . . thrice
They clash'd together, and thrice they brake their spears.

And lo! it was her mother grasping her
To get her well awake . . .

Look'd the fair Queen, but up the vale of Usk,
By the flat meadow, till she saw them come . . .

O me, I fear that I am no true wife!

Then tending her rough lord, tho' all unasked,
In silence, did him service as a squire . . . .

Your leave, my lord, to cross the room, and speak
To your good damsel there who sits apart . . .
From even a word . . .

. . . and she cast her arms
About him, and at once they rode away.

Then Enid waited pale and sorrowful,
And down upon him bare the bandit three.

. . . and her desolation
Came upon her, and she wept beside the way.

. . . the King himself
. . . show'd an empty tent allotted her.

So fixt her fancy on him; let him be.

He saw two cities in a thousand boats
All fighting for a woman on the sea.

A little glassy-headed hairless man . . . .

And shrieking out "O fool!" the harlot leapt
Adown the forest . . . .

"O Merlin, tho' you do not love me, save,
Yet save me!"

And after that she set herself to gain
Him, the most famous man of all those times . . . .

And Vivien answer'd smiling saucily . . . .

We could not keep him silent, out he flash'd
And into such a song, such fire for fame. . . .

. . . he lay as dead
And lost to life and use and name and fame.

O Master, shall we call him overquick
To crop his own sweet rose before the hour?

And Vivien followed . . . .

She took the helm and he the sail; the boat
Drave with a sudden wind across the deeps,

And lo, he sat on horseback at the door!
And near him the sad nuns with each a light
Stood . . .

. . . but she to Almesbury
Fled all night long by glimmering waste and weald. . .

. . .
The dragon of the great Pendragonship
Blaze, making all the night a stream of fire.

And saw the Queen who sat betwixt her best
Enid,and the lissome Vivien . . .

I did not come to curse thee, Guinevere . . .

. . . Gone--my lord
Gone thro' my sin to slay and to be slain!

And then they rode to the divided way,
There kiss'd, and parted weeping . . .

Stammering and staring: it was their last hour . . .

Yea, little maid, for am I not forgiven?

Will the child kill me with her innocent talk?

Pray and be pray'd for; lie before your shrines;
Do each low office of your holy house . . .