Save for some whisper of the seething seas, A bitter wind, clear from the North, and blew 125 Nor any cry of Christian heard thereon, Nor yet of heathen; only the wan wave 130 Swaying the helpless hands, and up and down Tumbling the hollow helmets of the fallen, And shiver'd brands that once had fought with Rome, And rolling far along the gloomy shores The voice of days of old and days to be. 135 Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere, And whiter than the mist that all day long Had held the field of battle was the King: · Hearest thou this great voice that shakes the world, And wastes the narrow realm whereon we move, 140 And beats upon the faces of the dead, My dead, as tho' they had not died for me? O Bedivere, for on my heart hath fall'n Then spake the bold Sir Bedivere: My King, King everywhere! and so the dead have kings, 145 There also will I worship thee as king. Yet still thy life is whole, and still I live 150 Who love thee; but who hates thee, he that brought The heathen back among us, yonder stands, Modred, unharm'd, the traitor of thine house.' Then spake the King: My house hath been my doom. But call not thou this traitor of my house 155 Who hath but dwelt beneath one roof with me. 160 165 So all day long the noise of battle roll'd Among the mountains by the winter sea; Until King Arthur's Table, man by man, 170 Had fall'n in Lyonnesse about their lord, King Arthur. Then, because his wound was deep, The bold Sir Bedivere uplifted him, 175 And bore him to a chapel nigh the field, A broken chancel with a broken cross, That stood on a dark strait of barren land: 180 Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere: They sleep- the men I loved. I think that we 185 Shall never more, at any future time, Delight our souls with talk of knightly deeds, I perish by this people which I made, 190 To rule once more; but let what will be, be. I am so deeply smitten thro' the helm That without help I cannot last till morn. 195 Which was my pride: for thou rememberest how And fling him far into the middle mere: Watch what thou seest: and lightly bring me word.' To him replied the bold Sir Bedivere: 'It is not meet, Sir King, to leave thee thus, Aidless, alone, and smitten thro' the helm A little thing may harm a wounded man ; Watch what I see, and lightly bring thee word.' So saying, from the ruin'd shrine he stept, He, stepping down There drew he forth the brand Excalibur, 200 205 210 215 220 225 In act to throw: but at the last it seem'd There in the many-knotted waterflags, That whistled stiff and dry about the marge. So strode he back slow to the wounded King. Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere: And answer made the bold Sir Bedivere: 'I heard the ripple washing inʼ the reeds, And the wild water lapping on the crag.' 230 gave? 235 To whom replied King Arthur, faint and pale: 240 245 I bade thee; watch, and lightly bring me word.' Then went Sir Bedivere the second time Across the ridge, and paced beside the mere, Counting the dewy pebbles, fix'd in thought; But when he saw the wonder of the hilt, 250 How curiously and strangely chased, he smote 255 And if indeed I cast the brand away, Surely a precious thing, one worthy note, Which might have pleased the eyes of many men. What good should follow this, if this were done? 260 What harm, undone? Deep harm to disobey, Seeing obedience is the bond of rule. Were it well to obey then, if a king demand The King is sick, and knows not what he does. 6 Saying, King Arthur's sword, Excalibur, 265 270 Nine years she wrought it, sitting in the deeps So might some old man speak in the aftertime 275 But now much honor and much fame were lost." So spake he, clouded with his own conceit, And hid Excalibur the second time, And so strode back slow to the wounded King. 280 'What is it thou hast seen? or what hast heard?' And answer made the bold Sir Bedivere : I heard the water lapping on the crag, And the long ripple washing in the reeds.' 285 To whom replied King Arthur, much in wrath: Unknightly, traitor-hearted! Woe is me! Authority forgets a dying king, Laid widow'd of the power in his eye 290 That bow'd the will. I see thee what thou art, For thou, the latest-left of all my knights And the third time may prosper, get thee hence: I will arise and slay thee with my hands.' 300 |