Alfred, Lord Tennyson - Delphi Poets Series

by Lord Tennyson Alfred

  Was Arthur born, and all as soon as born

  Delivered at a secret postern-gate

  To Merlin, to be holden far apart

  Until his hour should come; because the lords

  Of that fierce day were as the lords of this,

  Wild beasts, and surely would have torn the child

  Piecemeal among them, had they known; for each

  But sought to rule for his own self and hand,

  And many hated Uther for the sake

  Of Gorlois. Wherefore Merlin took the child,

  And gave him to Sir Anton, an old knight

  And ancient friend of Uther; and his wife

  Nursed the young prince, and reared him with her own;

  And no man knew. And ever since the lords

  Have foughten like wild beasts among themselves,

  So that the realm has gone to wrack: but now,

  This year, when Merlin (for his hour had come)

  Brought Arthur forth, and set him in the hall,

  Proclaiming, “Here is Uther’s heir, your king,”

  A hundred voices cried, “Away with him!

  No king of ours! a son of Gorlois he,

  Or else the child of Anton, and no king,

  Or else baseborn.” Yet Merlin through his craft,

  And while the people clamoured for a king,

  Had Arthur crowned; but after, the great lords

  Banded, and so brake out in open war.’

  Then while the King debated with himself

  If Arthur were the child of shamefulness,

  Or born the son of Gorlois, after death,

  Or Uther’s son, and born before his time,

  Or whether there were truth in anything

  Said by these three, there came to Cameliard,

  With Gawain and young Modred, her two sons,

  Lot’s wife, the Queen of Orkney, Bellicent;

  Whom as he could, not as he would, the King

  Made feast for, saying, as they sat at meat,

  ‘A doubtful throne is ice on summer seas.

  Ye come from Arthur’s court. Victor his men

  Report him! Yea, but ye — think ye this king —

  So many those that hate him, and so strong,

  So few his knights, however brave they be —

  Hath body enow to hold his foemen down?’

  ‘O King,’ she cried, ‘and I will tell thee: few,

  Few, but all brave, all of one mind with him;

  For I was near him when the savage yells

  Of Uther’s peerage died, and Arthur sat

  Crowned on the dais, and his warriors cried,

  “Be thou the king, and we will work thy will

  Who love thee.” Then the King in low deep tones,

  And simple words of great authority,

  Bound them by so strait vows to his own self,

  That when they rose, knighted from kneeling, some

  Were pale as at the passing of a ghost,

  Some flushed, and others dazed, as one who wakes

  Half-blinded at the coming of a light.

  ‘But when he spake and cheered his Table Round

  With large, divine, and comfortable words,

  Beyond my tongue to tell thee — I beheld

  From eye to eye through all their Order flash

  A momentary likeness of the King:

  And ere it left their faces, through the cross

  And those around it and the Crucified,

  Down from the casement over Arthur, smote

  Flame-colour, vert and azure, in three rays,

  One falling upon each of three fair queens,

  Who stood in silence near his throne, the friends

  Of Arthur, gazing on him, tall, with bright

  Sweet faces, who will help him at his need.

  ‘And there I saw mage Merlin, whose vast wit

  And hundred winters are but as the hands

  Of loyal vassals toiling for their liege.

  ‘And near him stood the Lady of the Lake,

  Who knows a subtler magic than his own —

  Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful.

  She gave the King his huge cross-hilted sword,

  Whereby to drive the heathen out: a mist

  Of incense curled about her, and her face

  Wellnigh was hidden in the minster gloom;

  But there was heard among the holy hymns

  A voice as of the waters, for she dwells

  Down in a deep; calm, whatsoever storms

  May shake the world, and when the surface rolls,

  Hath power to walk the waters like our Lord.

  ‘There likewise I beheld Excalibur

  Before him at his crowning borne, the sword

  That rose from out the bosom of the lake,

  And Arthur rowed across and took it — rich

  With jewels, elfin Urim, on the hilt,

  Bewildering heart and eye — the blade so bright

  That men are blinded by it — on one side,

  Graven in the oldest tongue of all this world,

  “Take me,” but turn the blade and ye shall see,

  And written in the speech ye speak yourself,

  “Cast me away!” And sad was Arthur’s face

  Taking it, but old Merlin counselled him,

  “Take thou and strike! the time to cast away

  Is yet far-off.” So this great brand the king

  Took, and by this will beat his foemen down.’

  Thereat Leodogran rejoiced, but thought

  To sift his doubtings to the last, and asked,

  Fixing full eyes of question on her face,

  ‘The swallow and the swift are near akin,

  But thou art closer to this noble prince,

  Being his own dear sister;’ and she said,

  ‘Daughter of Gorlois and Ygerne am I;’

  ‘And therefore Arthur’s sister?’ asked the King.

  She answered, ‘These be secret things,’ and signed

  To those two sons to pass, and let them be.

  And Gawain went, and breaking into song

  Sprang out, and followed by his flying hair

  Ran like a colt, and leapt at all he saw:

  But Modred laid his ear beside the doors,

  And there half-heard; the same that afterward

  Struck for the throne, and striking found his doom.

  And then the Queen made answer, ‘What know I?

  For dark my mother was in eyes and hair,

  And dark in hair and eyes am I; and dark

  Was Gorlois, yea and dark was Uther too,

  Wellnigh to blackness; but this King is fair

  Beyond the race of Britons and of men.

  Moreover, always in my mind I hear

  A cry from out the dawning of my life,

  A mother weeping, and I hear her say,

  “O that ye had some brother, pretty one,

  To guard thee on the rough ways of the world.”’

  ‘Ay,’ said the King, ‘and hear ye such a cry?

  But when did Arthur chance upon thee first?’

  ‘O King!’ she cried, ‘and I will tell thee true:

  He found me first when yet a little maid:

  Beaten I had been for a little fault

  Whereof I was not guilty; and out I ran

  And flung myself down on a bank of heath,

  And hated this fair world and all therein,

  And wept, and wished that I were dead; and he —

  I know not whether of himself he came,

  Or brought by Merlin, who, they say, can walk

  Unseen at pleasure — he was at my side,

  And spake sweet words, and comforted my heart,

  And dried my tears, being a child with me.

  And many a time he came, and evermore

  As I grew greater grew with me; and sad

  At times he seemed, and sad with him was I,

  Stern too at
times, and then I loved him not,

  But sweet again, and then I loved him well.

  And now of late I see him less and less,

  But those first days had golden hours for me,

  For then I surely thought he would be king.

  ‘But let me tell thee now another tale:

  For Bleys, our Merlin’s master, as they say,

  Died but of late, and sent his cry to me,

  To hear him speak before he left his life.

  Shrunk like a fairy changeling lay the mage;

  And when I entered told me that himself

  And Merlin ever served about the King,

  Uther, before he died; and on the night

  When Uther in Tintagil past away

  Moaning and wailing for an heir, the two

  Left the still King, and passing forth to breathe,

  Then from the castle gateway by the chasm

  Descending through the dismal night — a night

  In which the bounds of heaven and earth were lost —

  Beheld, so high upon the dreary deeps

  It seemed in heaven, a ship, the shape thereof

  A dragon winged, and all from stern to stern

  Bright with a shining people on the decks,

  And gone as soon as seen. And then the two

  Dropt to the cove, and watched the great sea fall,

  Wave after wave, each mightier than the last,

  Till last, a ninth one, gathering half the deep

  And full of voices, slowly rose and plunged

  Roaring, and all the wave was in a flame:

  And down the wave and in the flame was borne

  A naked babe, and rode to Merlin’s feet,

  Who stoopt and caught the babe, and cried “The King!

  Here is an heir for Uther!” And the fringe

  Of that great breaker, sweeping up the strand,

  Lashed at the wizard as he spake the word,

  And all at once all round him rose in fire,

  So that the child and he were clothed in fire.

  And presently thereafter followed calm,

  Free sky and stars: “And this the same child,” he said,

  “Is he who reigns; nor could I part in peace

  Till this were told.” And saying this the seer

  Went through the strait and dreadful pass of death,

  Not ever to be questioned any more

  Save on the further side; but when I met

  Merlin, and asked him if these things were truth —

  The shining dragon and the naked child

  Descending in the glory of the seas —

  He laughed as is his wont, and answered me

  In riddling triplets of old time, and said: —

  ‘“Rain, rain, and sun! a rainbow in the sky!

  A young man will be wiser by and by;

  An old man’s wit may wander ere he die.

  Rain, rain, and sun! a rainbow on the lea!

  And truth is this to me, and that to thee;

  And truth or clothed or naked let it be.

  Rain, sun, and rain! and the free blossom blows:

  Sun, rain, and sun! and where is he who knows?

  From the great deep to the great deep he goes.”

  ‘So Merlin riddling angered me; but thou

  Fear not to give this King thy only child,

  Guinevere: so great bards of him will sing

  Hereafter; and dark sayings from of old

  Ranging and ringing through the minds of men,

  And echoed by old folk beside their fires

  For comfort after their wage-work is done,

  Speak of the King; and Merlin in our time

  Hath spoken also, not in jest, and sworn

  Though men may wound him that he will not die,

  But pass, again to come; and then or now

  Utterly smite the heathen underfoot,

  Till these and all men hail him for their king.’

  She spake and King Leodogran rejoiced,

  But musing, ‘Shall I answer yea or nay?’

  Doubted, and drowsed, nodded and slept, and saw,

  Dreaming, a slope of land that ever grew,

  Field after field, up to a height, the peak

  Haze-hidden, and thereon a phantom king,

  Now looming, and now lost; and on the slope

  The sword rose, the hind fell, the herd was driven,

  Fire glimpsed; and all the land from roof and rick,

  In drifts of smoke before a rolling wind,

  Streamed to the peak, and mingled with the haze

  And made it thicker; while the phantom king

  Sent out at times a voice; and here or there

  Stood one who pointed toward the voice, the rest

  Slew on and burnt, crying, ‘No king of ours,

  No son of Uther, and no king of ours;’

  Till with a wink his dream was changed, the haze

  Descended, and the solid earth became

  As nothing, but the King stood out in heaven,

  Crowned. And Leodogran awoke, and sent

  Ulfius, and Brastias and Bedivere,

  Back to the court of Arthur answering yea.

  Then Arthur charged his warrior whom he loved

  And honoured most, Sir Lancelot, to ride forth

  And bring the Queen; — and watched him from the gates:

  And Lancelot past away among the flowers,

  (For then was latter April) and returned

  Among the flowers, in May, with Guinevere.

  To whom arrived, by Dubric the high saint,

  Chief of the church in Britain, and before

  The stateliest of her altar-shrines, the King

  That morn was married, while in stainless white,

  The fair beginners of a nobler time,

  And glorying in their vows and him, his knights

  Stood around him, and rejoicing in his joy.

  Far shone the fields of May through open door,

  The sacred altar blossomed white with May,

  The Sun of May descended on their King,

  They gazed on all earth’s beauty in their Queen,

  Rolled incense, and there past along the hymns

  A voice as of the waters, while the two

  Sware at the shrine of Christ a deathless love:

  And Arthur said, ‘Behold, thy doom is mine.

  Let chance what will, I love thee to the death!’

  To whom the Queen replied with drooping eyes,

  ‘King and my lord, I love thee to the death!’

  And holy Dubric spread his hands and spake,

  ‘Reign ye, and live and love, and make the world

  Other, and may thy Queen be one with thee,

  And all this Order of thy Table Round

  Fulfil the boundless purpose of their King!’

  So Dubric said; but when they left the shrine

  Great Lords from Rome before the portal stood,

  In scornful stillness gazing as they past;

  Then while they paced a city all on fire

  With sun and cloth of gold, the trumpets blew,

  And Arthur’s knighthood sang before the King: —

  ‘Blow, trumpet, for the world is white with May;

  Blow trumpet, the long night hath rolled away!

  Blow through the living world—”Let the King reign.”

  ‘Shall Rome or Heathen rule in Arthur’s realm?

  Flash brand and lance, fall battleaxe upon helm,

  Fall battleaxe, and flash brand! Let the King reign.

  ‘Strike for the King and live! his knights have heard

  That God hath told the King a secret word.

  Fall battleaxe, and flash brand! Let the King reign.

  ‘Blow trumpet! he will lift us from the dust.

  Blow trumpet! live the strength and die the lust!

  Clang battleaxe, and clash brand! Let the King reign.

  ‘Strike for the Ki
ng and die! and if thou diest,

  The King is King, and ever wills the highest.

  Clang battleaxe, and clash brand! Let the King reign.

  ‘Blow, for our Sun is mighty in his May!

  Blow, for our Sun is mightier day by day!

  Clang battleaxe, and clash brand! Let the King reign.

  ‘The King will follow Christ, and we the King

  In whom high God hath breathed a secret thing.

  Fall battleaxe, and flash brand! Let the King reign.’

  So sang the knighthood, moving to their hall.

  There at the banquet those great Lords from Rome,

  The slowly-fading mistress of the world,

  Strode in, and claimed their tribute as of yore.

  But Arthur spake, ‘Behold, for these have sworn

  To wage my wars, and worship me their King;

  The old order changeth, yielding place to new;

  And we that fight for our fair father Christ,

  Seeing that ye be grown too weak and old

  To drive the heathen from your Roman wall,

  No tribute will we pay:’ so those great lords

  Drew back in wrath, and Arthur strove with Rome.

  And Arthur and his knighthood for a space

  Were all one will, and through that strength the King

  Drew in the petty princedoms under him,

  Fought, and in twelve great battles overcame

  The heathen hordes, and made a realm and reigned.

  THE ROUND TABLE

  Gareth and Lynette

  1872

  THE LAST tall son of Lot and Bellicent,

  And tallest, Gareth, in a showerful spring

  Stared at the spate. A slender-shafted Pine

  Lost footing, fell, and so was whirled away.

  ‘How he went down,’ said Gareth, ‘as a false knight

  Or evil king before my lance if lance

  Were mine to use — O senseless cataract,

  Bearing all down in thy precipitancy —

  And yet thou art but swollen with cold snows

  And mine is living blood: thou dost His will,

  The Maker’s, and not knowest, and I that know,

  Have strength and wit, in my good mother’s hall

  Linger with vacillating obedience,

  Prisoned, and kept and coaxed and whistled to —

  Since the good mother holds me still a child!

  Good mother is bad mother unto me!

  A worse were better; yet no worse would I.

  Heaven yield her for it, but in me put force

  To weary her ears with one continuous prayer,

  Until she let me fly discaged to sweep

  In ever-highering eagle-circles up

  To the great Sun of Glory, and thence swoop

  Down upon all things base, and dash them dead,

  A knight of Arthur, working out his will,