Beauties of Poetry and Gems of Art Poems Songs Ballads Illustrated by English Artists

Half dozen Ballads Nearly Rex Arthur

MY DEAR CHILDREN

          I strung the post-obit lines together hoping to give you pleasance. The stories are taken from a book called 'Morte d'Arthur' which y'all volition read when you lot are older, and will see that I have often used the very words of the translator

                                                                                        YOUR LOVING GRANNY

MY DEAR CHILDREN

          I strung the following lines together hoping to give y'all pleasure. The stories are taken from a book chosen 'Morte d'Arthur' which you will read when you are older, and will see that I take often used the very words of the translator

                                                                                        YOUR LOVING GRANNY

ane The Nascency of King Arthur

2 Arthur Fabricated Male monarch

3 The Message

iv The Spousal relationship of King Arthur

v The Sancgreal

six The Death of King Arthur

THE Nascence OF KING ARTHUR.

'To horse! to equus caballus! my noble lord,'
Thus spake the off-white Igraine,
'Ride hard -- ride fast all through the night,
Nor stay, nor slack the rein.'

'Now why such haste to leave the Courtroom?'
The Duke of Cornwall cried.
'Ah me,' she said, 'King Uther wills
Thy wife should be his helpmate.'

Fast, fast they rode all through the night,
Nor stayed, nor slacked the rein,
Until the towers of Tintagel
Rose shining o'er the apparently.

But on the morrow, messengers
Came riding from the King:
'Uther Pendragon bids the Duke
Himself and wife to bring

Back to off-white London town.' -- 'Unto
The King this answer give:
Nor cocky nor married woman shall tread his halls
And then long as either live.'

Then sware the King a dreadful adjuration,
Or ere the fortieth day
He would unearth him from his lair,
And waste, and burn, and slay.

Alack for right 'gainst regal might!
Information technology boots merely sick to tell
How in a sally 'gainst the Male monarch
The brave Duke Cornwall fell.

The towers he manned, the married woman he loved,
Became King Uther's prey,
And from her home at Tintagel
Igraine was borne away.

And when her babe male child was born,
In cloth of gold with state
'Twas given to a beggar-man,
Who waited at the gate.

But this was Merlin, in disguise
Of beggar old and grey,
The great enchanter, Merlin hight,
Who bore the babe away

Unto a holy, saintly homo,
Who christened him by name
Of Arthur -- prince of chivalry,
Offset on the scroll of fame.

And good Sir Ector'due south noble wife
Nurtured the baby off-white,
And brought him up in gentle means,
Conforming England'due south heir.

Eftsoons King Uther sickenèd
And fell in woful plight;
He spake to non or great or small,
By day nor eke by night.

And then Merlin rose in council full,
And spake both loud and high:
'God'due south will exist washed, but I will make
Him speak or ere he dice!'

And then in hot haste, without filibuster,
Unto the Rex he hied,
Knelt down beside the imperial couch:
'Wilt thou, O Sire,' he cried

'That Arthur, thy own son, shall rule
O'er England in thy stead?'
The noble vassals gathered round,
Listening astonishèd.

For cypher knew they of infant son,
But every Businesswoman there
Mighty of men, and strong of arm,
Wended to be the heir.

King Uther Pendragon turned round
Upon his dying bed,
And to the knights assembled there
And to great Merlin said:

'May God Almighty bless my son!
I, likewise, my approval give;
Bid him use plumbing equipment holy prayers
That my poor soul may live:

'And claim the crown right worshipful
On pain of blessing lost.'
With that he turned him o'er again,
And yielded upwardly the ghost.

They cached him with regal pomp,
While all his Barons wept,
Every bit did Igraine, his beauteous queen --
Simply Uther calmly slept.

ARTHUR Made Male monarch.

When Uther passed away, the realm
Fell in peachy jeopardy,
For many wended to be king
Through might and bravery.

Then Merlin to the Archbishop
Of Canterbury went,
And they together council took
This evil to foreclose.

Thus they agreed -- that every lord,
On pain of curses deep,
And every gentleman-at-arms
A solemn tryst should proceed,

On Christmas day, at London town,
Since Christ, equally all do know,
Was then created Lord of all
The kingdoms here below;
So who should reign o'er England fair
By miracle might show.

Some nobles fabricated them passing clean
From vice or crime, for fearfulness
Their prayers might enter gracelessly,
Inside Christ Jesus' ear.

Inside the church on Christmas day
(It was St. Paul's, I ween),
A mightly host of knights and lords
And commoners is seen.

But ere they read the early mass,
Or early matins sing,
Unto the Lord Archbishop in that location
This startling news they bring:

'Outside, within the churchyard gate,
Near to the altar stone,
In that location stands a big square marble slab
With anvil perched thereon;

'And in the anvil, of pure steel
A naked sword doth sit,
Of finest point, and all around
Are golden letters writ:

'"Whoso from out this marble stone
With his ain powerful paw
Shall pluck this sword, he shall be Lord
And King of all England."'

The Lord Archbishop ordered then
That none should touch the stone,
But all inside the church should pray
Until Loftier Mass was done,

And when all prayers were finishèd
(This was his Grace'southward will),
Ten knights of stainless troth and fame
Should guard the sword from ill;

That jousts and tournaments be held
Upon the New year'south day;
That all who willed their prowess endeavor
To pluck the sword away.

Thereto at that place flocked a gallant host
Of knights and ladies gay;
Sir Ector brought young Arthur in that location,
And his own son, Sir Kay.

But then befel a woful chance --
Sir Kay had lost his sword,
In sooth, had left information technology at his habitation.
Then uttered he this word:

'O foster brother! backward speed,
Ride fast for love of me,
And when thou reachest Ector's house,
My sword bring back to me.'

'That will I,' said the gallant youth,
Riding away alone;
But when he reached the castle gate
He found the wardour gone,

And all the inmates, cracking and pocket-sized,
Off to the tournament;
Baffled and wroth he turned his horse
And to the churchyard went.

'X one thousand pities 'twere,' he said,
'My dear blood brother Kay
Should at the joust withouten sword
Appear in disarray.

Whereat he lighted from his horse,
And tied it to the stile,
While to the tent he bent his steps
And loitered there awhile,

To see if the ten guards were in that location --
He recked not that they went
With all the globe, both rich and poor,
To the dandy tournament.

So when he found no knights were there
But to the jousting gone,
Lightly yet fierce the sword he seized,
And pulled information technology from the stone,

And to Sir Kay delivered it,
Who wist, as soon equally seen,
That 'twas the sword from out the rock;
So said, 'Full well I ween

I accept the sword, and I must be
The King of all Englànd.
But when he showed information technology to his sire
Sir Ector gave command

That to the church he should repair
And swear upon the book
How gat he and then the sword; merely he,
Fearing his sire'due south rebuke,

Told how his foster blood brother came
When all the knights were gone,
And light and fiercely plucked the sword
From out the magic stone.

'Now effort again,' Sir Ector said;
Whereat they all assayed,
But none save Arthur there availed
To sunder out the blade.

And thrice over again he made assay,
And thrice the sword came free;
Sir Ector and Sir Kay fell down
Upon their bended knee.
'O father! why,' young Arthur said,
'Your homage pay to me?'

'Because that God has willed information technology and then.
Thou art no son of mine:
'Twas Merlin brought thee to my arms
From some far nobler line.

'But, O my liege! for King thou art,
Wilt thou to mine and me,
Who nurtured thee and brought thee up,
A gracious sovereign be?

Merely Arthur wept and fabricated great dole
At what Sir Ector said,
That he no sire or mother had,
Then sweetly answerèd:

'Else were I much to blame! I am
Appreciative so to you,
Command me, and may God me assist
I will your bidding do.'

'Sir,' said Sir Ector, 'I volition ask
No more than that of all
The lands you govern, my son Kay
Be fabricated the Seneschal.'

Replied young Arthur, 'That shall be;
I here my promise give,
That none but he that office fill
While he or I shall live.'

Then happèd it that on Twelfth 24-hour interval
The Barons all assay
To pluck the sword, but none prevail
Save Arthur on that day.

So waxed they wroth, and Candlemas
Was fixed for the assay,
Yet nevertheless no knight just Arthur
Could pluck the sword abroad.

Then at loftier feast of Eastertide,
Also at Pentecost,
None only young Arthur loosed the sword --
The knights their temper lost.

Simply when the Lord Archbishop came,
All cried with one accordance,
'Nosotros will accept Arthur for our King,
God wills him for our lord.'

And down on bended knee they vicious
To pay him homage due;
And thus he won Excalibur
And all off-white England too.

Shortly Scotland, and the North, and Wales,
To him obeisance made,
Won by prowess of his knights
And of his trusty blade.

THE MESSAGE.

On battlemented Camelot
The moon was softly sleeping;
Within, King Arthur'due south noble knights
Their wassail late were keeping.

'What ho! Sir Wardour, ope the gate,
And let the drawbridge down;
I bear a message to your lord
From Ryence of renown.'

And then upwards and spake the white-haired thrall
That kept the castle gate,
'It ill befits our courtesy
To ane who comes and then late,

'Who travel-stained and weary seems,
To bar his entry free;
But tell me first your quest, I pray,
And who may Ryence be?'

'My quest I tell just to thy chief:
Enough for thee, I ween,
That Ryence reigns o'er Wales, and eke
O'er Ireland's mountains greenish,
And isles unnumbered round about,
At present glittering in the sheen.'

The wardour oped the castle door,
And allow the drawbridge down;
The herald crossed in silence o'er,
And entered with a frown,

And when within the banquet hall,
He never bowed the head,
Nor aptitude the knee, merely strode right on
And to King Arthur said:

'King Ryence vanquished in off-white fight
Twice six good kings save ane;
He summons thee that one to be,
Or proffers thee a benefaction.

'He bids thee here on bended knee
Thy lawful homage pay,
Or he volition come with burn and sword
To waste, and burn, and slay.

'King Ryence hath a sammet cloak
All purfled round with hair --
With human hair torn from the chins
Of kings he slew in state of war.

'But still at that place is one little spot
Uncovered at the base:
Flay chiliad thy chin, and send thy beard
To fill the vacant place.'

So started up King Arthur's knights
Indignant at this word;
Each stamped his mailèd heel in ire,
Each drew his trusty sword.

Rex Arthur rose with manly grace
And to the herald spake,
'Quail not before my noble knights,
But back this answer accept:

'Say that of all the messages
Ever sent from king to king,
This is the shamefullest and worst
That herald e'er did bring.

' 'Tis plain Ryence has never been
In knightly company;
He lacks the soul -- he lacks the speech
Of mutual courtesy.

'Tell him, no homage exercise I owe,
Nor sire nor kith of mine;
As for my beard, it is likewise scant
To purfle cloak so fine;

'And if he come, as now he boasts,
With fire and sword to slay,
On both his bended knees he shall
To me his homage pay.'

The herald left the hall -- the Rex
Thus broke the deep silènce:
'Now is in that location any here,' he said,
'That knoweth King Ryence?'

Then answered him one dark Naram,
'I know him passing well;
In body few can match his forcefulness,
In pride none him excel.

'I doubt non he will state of war with you
Full stiff and powerfully.'
'Well!' said the King, 'I volition ordain
For him, as he shall come across.'

THE MARRIAGE OF Male monarch ARTHUR.

Then happed it on Allhallowmas,
That Bors, the Male monarch of Gaul,
And Ban of Benwick, over seas,
Came at Rex Arthur'due south call.

They came with full three hundred knights,
All chosen, brave, and true,
To vanquish Arthur's enemies
Who fierce and fiercer grew.

And while they kept loftier festival
Beneathen material of gold,
A thrall came riding in hot haste
And woful tidings told;

How that King Ryence of Northward Wales
Had gone with sword and lance
From out his mountain fastnesses
'Gainst King Leodogrance.

Now Arthur loved this king for assistance
In war, and friendly troth,
But hated Ryence of North Wales,
So at this news was wroth.

King Bors and Ban fabricated ready then
Their chivalry from France,
And all the state rose in arms
To help Leodogrance.

Total twenty thousand men-at-arms
Rode with Rex Arthur hard,
Until within six days they reached
The towers of Cameliard.

And and then and there the mighty host
Engaged in dreadful fight,
They slaughtered twice five k souls
And put Ryence to flying.

'Twas and then King Arthur offset beheld
The lovely Guinever,
The King'south off-white daughter -- ever since
He loved simply only her.

When that the kingdom freedom gat
From wars and jealous strife,
The barons begged Male monarch Arthur then
To wed a loving wife.

With Merlin besides was counsel ta'en,
Who accounted it good and wise,
And asked the King if whatever maid
Constitute favour in his optics.

Then answered Arthur, 'There is one,
I deem her passing fair,
The daughter of my trusty friend,
The lovely Guinever.

'To him my begetter gave a prize
I value more than than gold,
The huge Round Table at whose board
Sate knights a hundred told

'And fifty more than.' 'Sir,' Merlin said,
'I grant you passing well,
For dazzler and for fairness also
No maid can her excel.

'Only an ye loved her not, I could
Another dryad find,
Whose beauty and whose goodness should
Be equal in your mind.

'But 'tis not encounter a homo should wednesday
Where he can feel no dear;
For where his heart is set, he will
Be quick his feet to move.'

'Ah! that is true,' the King replied,
Nor list what Merlin said,
How grief and sorrow would ensue
If he the maid should wed,

But sent him to Leodogrance,
In goodly company,
To plead his suit, and inquire the King
What might his pleasure exist?

Leodogrance was charmed
To welcome Merlin's suite,
Exclaiming that it pleased him well
Arthur's demands to meet.

But said, 'What tin can I proffer him
With Guinever for dower?
For gilded and country he does non lack,
He has such aplenty store.

'Simply I the huge Circular Tabular array have,
Uther Pendragon gave
To me is trusted friend, and that
His son shall gladly have.

'Alack for hap and woful modify!
Full many a gallant knight
Who sate thereat has perished since,
Slain in the bloody fight.

'Simply still a hundred knights remain,
My faithful bodyguard;
They shall escort my girl when
She leaveth Cameliard.'

So Merlin, knights, and Guinever
Journeyed by country and sea,
Till they came nigh to London town,
A goodly visitor.

So did Rex Arthur joy to see
The cavalcade go far,
Begetting the Table that he prized
And Guinever to wive.

He spake out openly and loud,
'This maid I long have loved,
And more than land or precious gold
These gifts my center have moved.

'For nothing is so lief to me
As Guinever the fair;
To midweek her, and to crown her queen,
We quickly will gear up.

'Let Merlin search through all the state
If fifty knights be institute,
To make full the places vacant left
Beside the Table Circular.'

But only eight-and-twenty knights
Of prowess and good fame
Could Merlin find to fill the seats.
Then Canterbury came --

He came with pomp right royally
To bless the seats in country;
Upon each chair, the while he prayed,
The eight-and-twenty sate.

When they arose and homage paid
To Arthur, as was fit,
Were golden letters found on each,
Telling who at that place should sit.

Simply two were void, and so anon
Came riding young Gawaine,
To beg the king to dub him knight,
Nor did he beg in vain

Then forthwithal a poor man came,
And with him his fair son:
'Oh, where shall I Male monarch Arthur find?'
He questioned every one.

'Yonder he stands -- what wilt with him?'
Down on his bended articulatio genus
He dropped and said, 'O blessed King!
O flower of chivalry!

'May Jesu save thee! hither I come up
A apprehensive suppliant,
Hearing that on your wedding-day
Ye whatever boon would grant.

'Sir, I have 13 stalwart sons,
Who labour all the yr,
And do my behest passing well;
But this grand seest here

'Will nothing practice but bend the bow,
And cast the dart distant;
He loves to sentry the feasts and games,
And mix where battles are.

'Make him, my King, a gallant knight.'
' 'Tis sooner said than done,'
Arthur replied; but all the while
He watchèd well the son,

And found that he fair-visaged was,
And passingly well made.
'What is thy name, and where thy sword?'
He to the young man said.

'My name is Tor, and here is my sword.'
'Unsheath it and alight.'
The youth leaped from his meagre steed,
Kneeling in Arthur'due south sight.

'Oh make me, sir, a knight, I pray,
Knight of the Table Round!'
Smiting him on the neck with sword,
'May'st thou exist always plant,'

Male monarch Arthur said, 'I pray to God,
A good knight and a true!
Just to be knight of Table Round
Lacks worth and prowess likewise.'

And and so at that place happed a wondrous sight;
For when the King was midweek
All solemnly at Camelot,
And the high banquet was fabricated,

By Merlin'south order every knight
Sat silent, ane and all,
Each in his siege in solemn land
Within the banquet hall.

Till, as the portals open up flew,
Rushed in a hart milk-white,
A snow-white brachet followed on,
And then, O wondrous sight!

Twice 30 coal-black hounds pursued
The hart with yell and cry,
And when the brachet wounded her
She moanèd piteously,

And gave a sudden bound that threw
I knight upon the footing,
Wherefrom he shortly arose and seized
By force the snowfall white hound.

Quick out of hall, he leaped to equus caballus,
Bearing his prize away,
Riding every bit if for life and death,
That no human could him stay.

Anon there came on palfrey white
A lady off-white and gay,
Who begged the King to give her back
Her brachet stolen away.

That tin can I not,' said Arthur. Then
A knight in full array
Came riding in, armed cap-a-pie
And bore the maid away.

By forcefulness he snatched her that she made
Such dole with shriek and weep,
That all within the banquet hall
Rejoiced to see them fly.

Then Merlin spake: 'Ye may not treat
These shames as poor and slight,
Else much disworship volition ascend
To King and every knight

'Belonging to the Table Round;
But order noble men,
Gawaine, and Pellinore, and Tor,
To fetch them back once again.'

'That will I,' said the King. 'Gawaine,
Bring back the milk-white hart.
To you, Male monarch Pellinore, behoves
To play a nobler part:

'The Knight and Lady you lot shall come across
In war and fearful strife;
Bring them once again before this courtroom,
Or sacrifice their life.

'And you, Sir Tor, your valour test,
And knightly award gain,
For bringing back the brachet white
Inside this hall again.'

It little boots me now to tell
How each ane's piece of work was sped;
Suffice it that they all returned
Their task accomplishèd.

So Arthur stablished all the knights;
To such as were too poor
He granted lands and tenements
Dividing upward his store.

And solemnly he charged them all
No outrage always to do,
Murder, cruelty, and vice,
And treason to eschew.

He said, 'To him that asketh y'all
Mercy and pardon give,
Under the ban of forfeiting
My service while ye alive;

'The penalty of death be yours,
If damsels in distress
Or gentlewomen plead in vain
For succour or redress.

'And allow no man for worldly goods,
Or lands, or sordid pelf,
In wrongful quarrel battle brand
Or glorify himself.

'Swear,' said Rex Arthur -- every knight
Uprose to practise his will --
'Swear faithfully and loyally
My precepts to fulfil.'

'Twas done -- in every hereafter year,
As Pentecost came by,
King Arthur's knights were bound by oath
To truth and chivalry.

And thus was stablished in our land
Honour and loyalty;
Long may they last, nor ever fail
Till time itself shall die!

THE SANCGREAL.

Information technology chanced, when Lancelot du Lake
Had freed from durance vile
The fairest lady in the land,
He journeyed on awhile,

Until Male monarch Pelles spied the knight,
Whose castle stood hard past,
And begged him to alight and share
His hospitality.

So courteously and graciously
The twain passed through the gate,
And so saturday within the banquet hall,
The viands to await.

Only lo! through window opened broad,
Without or phonation or sound,
A gentle dove came gliding in,
And floated circular and round.

Within her beak a censer hung
Cast in pure molten gold,
Whence clouds of fragrance issued forth
Which o'er the table rolled.

It seemed as Araby the blessed,
And every spicy isle,
Had garnered all their treasures up,
To waft them at that place the while.

And forthwithal upon the board
All kinds of meats were spread,
And drinks that might the palate please
Were as well furnishèd.

A damsel passing fair and young,
About beauteous to behold,
Came gliding in -- betwixt her hands
She bare a vase of gold.

And thereunto the King kneeled down,
Devoutly and with grace,
To say his prayers, as besides did
Each soul within the place.

Then spake Sir Lancelot du Lake
And askèd of the King,
'What may this mean? I pray you tell.'
'This is the richest matter,'

Replied Rex Pelles, 'that a homo
Tin own, live or dead;
E'en the Round Table, when this comes,
Shall be abolishèd.

'And wit thou well, grand here hast seen
The holy Sangreal --
The blessed gift -- the cherished hope
Sought for and prayed of all.'

In after years when Lancelot
Had wedded sweet Elaine,
King Pelles' child, within those walls,
The wonder happed again.

For Lancelot's nephew, young Sir Bors,
To Corben Castle rode,
And in the banquet-hall he saw
Elaine, but where she stood,

Her infant on her arm; and when
She said the lovely male child
Was Lancelot's child, he kneelèd downwardly
And wept for very joy,

And prayed to God, that when the child
To years of manhood grew,
He might prove worthy of his sire,
As brave a knight and true.

Then through the window opened wide,
Without or vocalisation or audio,
A gentle dove came gliding in,
And floated circular and circular.

Inside her nib a censer hung
Formed of pure molten gilt,
Whence clouds of fragrance issued along,
Which o'er the table rolled.

It seemed as Araby the blessed,
And every spicy island,
Had garnered all their treasures upward
To waft them there awhile.

And forthwithal upon the board
All kinds of meats were spread,
And drinks that might the palate please
Were also furnishèd.

A damsel passing fair and immature,
Near beauteous to behold,
Came gliding in, betwixt her easily
Bearing a vase of gold.

She spake, 'This babe Sir Galahad,
Sir Bors, I bid y'all wit,
In future on Siege Perilous
As knight shall surely sit --

'A nobler knight than is his sire' --
Her words rang through the hall --
'For as he lives, he surely shall
Reach the Sancgreal.'

She vanished then. As of afore,
King Pelles spoke out loud:
'No knight shall win, or honour take,
Save he that loveth God.

'Be he a knight of high degree,
Or be he e'er so brave,
An he nor love nor feareth God,
No honor shall he have.'

Replied Sir Bors, 'Within these halls
(I wot not what they mean)
Most strange and weird adventures hap,
And wondrous sights are seen.
I will exist shriven with skilful will
And be confessèd make clean.'

So was he shriven of his sins,
And in the expressionless of night
Most marvellous adventures happed,
Too lengthy hither to write.

When morning bankrupt, to Camelot
He spurred his gallant steed;
For Arthur had returned from French republic
Victorious, and decreed

That feasts and tournaments be held
Upon that very day,
And all his knights at Table Round
Should sit in full assortment.

Merely when uncovered was the siege
Hight Perilous, behold,
The name of young Sir Galahad
Shone forth in molten gilt.

But no one at the Tabular array wot
Who Galahad might be,
Till long years afterward he came
Out from the nunnery

Where holy women reared the child
Till he to manhood grew,
And taught him to be proficient and wise,
Noble, and brave, and truthful.

At Pentecost, he having offset
Performed the holy rite,
On bended human knee he begged to be
Installèd equally a knight.

Sir Lancelot surveyed the youth,
And plant him passing fair,
With limbs well knit, of stature tall,
Svelte beyond compare.

He struck him with his sword, and said,
'Sir Galahad, ascend!
God grant the virtue ne'er may fade
Now shining through your eyes!'

Sir Galahad then hasted forth,
To joust withouten shield;
He broke their spears, he threw the knights
Save twain who would not yield.

He so unhorsed, unlaced him helm
At Guinever's asking,
Who, looking on his visage, spake,
'No curiosity he is best

'At jousting and at holy prayer;
For, as you lot plainly see,
His face up and mien bespeak him sprung
From true nobility.'

And then all to the dandy minster sped
To offer evensong,
King, Queen, the knights of Table Round,
With all the motley throng.

Then back to Camelot to sup,
Where in the lofty hall,
Each sitting as toforehand, lo!
This curiosity did befall:

The thunder growled, and croaky ahead
As though the walls would rive.
Each knight made sign of cross, as though
The priest had stood to shrive.

But in the midst of crash and blast
A sunbeam entered there,
By vii times brighter than the day,
When day is bright and clear.

It shed such lustre over all,
Each scanned his neighbour o'er;
And each seemed fairer in that lite
Than due east'er he seemed before.

No discussion was spoke, no sound was made,
As they all dumb had been:
The holy Grail in white samite
Came softly gliding in.

And every bit afore the hall was filled
With perfumes where it moved,
And every knight had meats and drinks
As each one wished and loved.

As quickly as information technology glided in,
It quick evanishèd;
None knew from whence or whitherward
The holy vision fled.

Male monarch Arthur rose with reverence,
Bowing full depression his head:
'Give thanks Jesu Christ our Lord for this
Then precious boon,' he said.

And then up and spake Gawaine, 'I vow
Past all I agree well-nigh dear,
In quest of this most holy Grail,
To wander for a yr.

'And eke a day nor e'er return
Until it reappear
Unto my longing eyes more than brilliant
And openly than here!'

Then rose up all the knights around,
And vowed, with one accord,
With middle and soul to bring together the quest,
For love of Christ their Lord.

King Arthur spake with troubled mien,
'Alas! Gawaine, Gawaine!
With this avow and promise fabricated,
Ye have me well well-nigh slain.

'Alas! this morn I held secure
A band and so brave and truthful,
The fairest fellowship on globe
That knighthood always knew.

'Ye take bereft me of this band.
Alas! it grieves me sore;
For when they in one case depart from hence,
I ne'er shall meet them more.

'For many in the quest volition die --
Those that I loved and so well.
How shut I held them to my middle,
No words of mine can tell.

'And thus information technology now forthinketh me,
I fain for grief would die;
For 'twas an old, old usage
To have their company.'

This spake he, with the gathering tears
Slow trembling in his eyes,
Fresh from his o'ercharged center, so full
Of loving memories.

Adjacent morn, the band of gallant knights
Through the great minster pass,
And kneel below the altar stair
To celebrate the mass.

And so 'to horse!' The eager crowd
Are gathering far and near;
Maidens forlorn and gentlefolk
With contemplative optics are there:

The rich, the poor, the camp, the court,
Arthur and Guinever;
They bid farewell with many a sob
And many a bitter tear.

They mount, they ride, their glittering plumes
Are waving in the wind;
Ah! what remains salve aching hearts
To those they leave behind?

THE Death OF KING ARTHUR.

False Mordred spake to Guinever,
'Arthur, thy lord, is expressionless,
And has appointed me to reign
O'er England in his stead.

'Nosotros will be crowned right royally.
To Canterbury haste;
We there high festival volition brand
For fifteen days at least,

'And thou shalt be my wedded wife.'
She shrank in mute dismay,
Knowing King Arthur had embarked
His troops from Cardiff Bay:

Full threescore 1000 gallant men,
With his tried friend Gawaine,
To 'venge an insult, they had gone
To Benwick over primary.

And now, poor Guinever, accept heart;
Brush back they biting tears;
Trust in thy subtle woman's wit
Born of thy woman's fears.

She answered him in gentle guise,
'I may not say thee nay,
Only grant me that I journey start
To London town, I pray,
To buy some guards and trinkets fine
To grace my bridal twenty-four hours.'

False Mordred granted her asking,
In that she spake then fair;
Then quick she hied to London boondocks,
And bade her men repair

Unto the Tower, the which she filled
With nutrient, and arms, and men,
Nor zilch that Mordred said or did
Could lure her forth again.

He sued her with false honeyed words,
They did non in one case prevail;
He stormed the Tower with mighty guns,
It was of no avail.

Within her fortress Guinever
Sent scornful answers truthful:
'Grand art a traitor to thy male monarch,
Which thou full soon shalt rue.

'Ere I come forth to thee, fake knight,
E'en though my lord be dead,
I liever by this sword will die
Than e'er I thee wed.'

When Mordred heard that Arthur'due south host
Was coming over ocean,
In eager haste to be avenged
For this foul treachery,

He writ to all the barons circular
To come from far and virtually,
And studied words of treason dark
He whispered in their ear:

How that with Arthur evermore
Was aught but war and strife,
While he, Sir Mordred, gave them peace,
And joy, and bliss of life.

And then many that King Arthur had
Raised up from low estate,
And granted lands, at present slanderous words
And evil 'gainst him spake.

At present, all ye Englishmen, behold
What mischief happened hither:
This King, who was the noblest king,
And knight withouten peer,

Who loved the fellowship of none
But practiced and brave, who spent
His life redressing crime and wrong,
Was held in discontent.

This old, one-time custom of the state
Is not forgot, they say,
That Englishmen are ne'er content,
Not even at this day.

This is their great default -- no thing
Pleaseth this people long.
Thus happed information technology that faux Mordred's force
Waxed numerous and strong.

They met at Dover. Arthur's fleet
Came sailing o'er the ocean,
Bearing its freight of man worth,
A goodly company.

Then was there launching of bang-up boats
And modest, in eager haste
To lift King Arthur from the realm
Whereto God had him placed.

They rushed ashore -- ah, woe is me
For many a noble slain,
For barons bold, and gentle knights,
Among them Sir Gawaine.

When Arthur saw his sister's son
Fall with a deadly blow,
He took him gently in his arms,
And kissed his pallid brow.

'Gawaine,' he cried, 'my only joy!
I pray thee, practice non die,
And get out me, in this common cold bleak globe,
To utter misery.

'For now I will confess to thee
That I accept loved thee so,
I cannot conduct, withouten thee,
This life of grief and woe.'

The dying man thrice oped his optics,
And gasped amid his pain
Some words of comfort to the Rex,
Then never spake once more.

King Arthur mourned with bitter grief
The friend he loved then well,
At Dover Castle buried him
Within a small chapelle,
Where even to this day his skull
Is shown, every bit travellers tell.

Meanwhile the battle hurtled on
Far equally to Barham plain;
Male monarch Arthur's troops victorious
Drave Mordred back again.

But then there happed a wondrous thing,
For in the dead of night
A vision to King Arthur came,
Alert him not to fight.

Gawaine, surrounded by a troop
Of ladies fair and vivid,
Whom he had rescued from foul wrong,
Or aided in the right,

Thus spake: 'God sends us here to you
His purpose to maintain;
For if you fight to-morrow morn,
You surely volition be slain.

'Await only till Sir Lancelot
With help shall reappear.'
Thus having said, he vanishèd
Equally into empty air.

In council it was then decreed
That when the morrow came,
When both the armies were afield,
A herald should proclaim

A truce, with golden and lands in pledge,
If Mordred would acquiesce.
The morning bankrupt, the herald cried,
Each party was agreed.

But each, mistrustful of his foe,
Gave orders to his men
To stand prepared for deadly fight,
Should zippo occur again

To mar the truce. Just then from out
Some heather on the correct
An adder glided along, and stung
Upon his foot a knight,

Who idea no harm, simply drew his sword
To strike the reptile expressionless,
Whereat both armies yelled aloud
As by one impulse led.

At sound of trumpets, beams, and horns,
They hasted on to fight,
And never in this Christian land
Was seen more doleful sight.

Oh! there was rushing, riding fast,
And many a grim word spoke,
Foining and striking everywhere,
And many a deadly stroke.

They stinted non, just madly fought
Through all that livelong day;
At night a hundred thousand dead
Stark on the common lay.

When Arthur gazed across the down,
And saw his valiant host
All slain, save two poor wounded knights,
He knew that all was lost.

'Jesu have mercy!' cried the Rex;
'Would that I too had been
Like these, my comrades, stricken dead,
Ere I this solar day had seen!

'At present would to God I wist me where
That traitor foul may exist,
Who brought such mischief to the realm
And misery to me!'

Thereat he suddenly turned round,
And spied, beyond the plain,
Imitation Mordred leaning on his sword
Among a heap of slain.

So cried he to a wounded knight
Yclept Sir Bedevere,
'Yonder I spy the traitor faux.
Give me my trusty spear;

'For tide me life, or tide me death,
I run into him there alone
He shall not 'scape my vengeance at present
As he before hath done.'

With both his easily he seized the spear,
Crying, 'Thy hour is come --
Dice, traitor, die!' rushed headlong on,
And drave the weapon home.

But with his sword the dying man
Smote Arthur on the caput,
Piercing his helmet to the brain,
Then roughshod downwards stark and dead.

When noble Arthur vicious to earth
Thrice in a deadly swoon,
Sir Lucan and Sir Bedevere
Thrice raised him up, and before long

They led him on betwixt them both
Softly and tenderly,
Until they reached a chapel small
Close by the moaning sea.

And while they sat and hearkened there,
All in the broad moonlight,
They saw the pillers on the downward
Rob many a noble knight

Of brooch, and beads, and jewels rare,
Of many a goodly ring,
Which much distressed Sir Bedevere,
Who begged the dying King

To haste to some securer spot,
Where they could hide away.
Arthur replied, 'My time flees fast,
I have not long to stay.

'At present hie thee to yon waterside,
And throw my trusty sword,
My own Excalibur, therein,
And quickly bring me word

'What at that place thousand meet'st.' 'It shall be done,'
Replied the willing knight.
But when he saw that noble sword,
With precious stones bedight

On haft and pommel, to himself
He reasoned in this wise:
'If I destroy this richest sword,
But harm and loss arise,

'For an I throw it in the stream,
No good to him or me.'
Whereon he hid Excalibur
Under the nearest tree.

When he gat back unto the Male monarch,
'What saw'st thou there?' quoth he.
'Naught but the waves and winds,' he said,
'Moaning nigh dolefully.'

So said King Arthur, 'Truth is proficient,
To prevarication is deadly sin;
As thou art lief and dearest to me,
Go back and throw it in.'

Sir Bedevere returned again,
But thought it sin and shame
To cast abroad the noble sword,
Then acted merely the aforementioned.

He hid the sword amid the grass,
Then, on his bended knee,
Told Arthur his control was done.
'Say and so what didst thou see?'

'Sire,' said he, 'I saw nothing in that location
But the great waters wap,
And the waves wan; while I remained,
Zilch else to me did hap.'

'Ah, traitor!' said King Arthur, 'all
Thou sayest is untrue;
G hast betrayed me twice, and at present
Thou would'st me quite undo.

'Who would have wend that thou, who wast
And then lief and dear to me,
And called a noble knight, for gain
Should now deceitful be?

Get chop-chop hence. The cold strikes corking;
I have brusque time to stay;
An if grand disobey me now,
I surely will thee slay.'

Thereat Sir Bevedere rushed forth;
Seizing the weapon fast,
He bound the girdle round the hilt,
And threw it in at concluding.

When lo! an arm and mitt appeared
To a higher place the watery grave,
Caught at the sword, thrice brandished it,
Then vanished in the wave.

When Arthur heard what had befell,
He spake, 'Sir Bedevere,
Alas! Now assist me hence; I dread
Too long I tarry hither.'

He took the King upon his back,
Close to the waterside,
Where hovèd in, fast by the bank,
A little barge he spied;

Wherein there sate a stately queen,
And many ladies fair,
Who shrieked and wept for grief when they
Beheld King Arthur there.

'Now put me in the barge,' he said,
Which softly was obeyed;
Three queens in sable hood therein
Gently King Arthur laid.

Upon the lap of one of these
His weary head he laid.
'Why accept ye tarried, blood brother dear,
And so long from me?' she said.

'Alas! the cold has stricken deep
Into this wound, I fear;'
Then they rowed far far away
From sad Sir Bedevere.
Their wailing floated on the current of air,
Virtually sorry to hear.

Soon as the barge was lost to sight,
Forlorn Sir Bedevere
Wept and bemoaned the livelong dark,
Wandering well-nigh, in fearfulness

Of armed foes and robbers vile,
Through devious forest means.
When morning time brake, a hermitage
Met his bewildered gaze.

Close by a little chapel stood,
Where holy men might pray;
Inside, low grovelling on the ground,
A saintly hermit lay

Beside a new-made grave. The knight
Inquired in accents low,
'What human is recent buried there
Down in the grave below?'

'Fair Sir,' the hermit and so replied,
'I wot not who he be;
A ring of lovely ladies brought
Him here concluding night to me.

'A hundred tapers, likewise, they brought,
A hundred besants gave,
To lay in earth his lovely class,
His precious soul to save.'

'Alas! that was my honoured lord,'
Replied Sir Bedevere,
'King Arthur, prince of chivalry,
Who now lies buried here.'

Whereat he vicious into a swoon.
When he revived once more,
He begged the hermit piteously
To let him in that location remain.

'In life or death I would be most,
Not evermore remove,
By fasting and past prayer to show
My loyalty and love.'

And then he doffed his chivalry gear,
Putting on mean array,
And both together wept and prayed
Their weary lives away.

Queen Guinever became a nun
In cloistered Almesbury,
Spending her days in deeds of love
And acts of charity.

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Source: https://d.lib.rochester.edu/camelot/text/six-ballads-about-king-arthur