El último sueño del rey Arturo en Avalon

Edward Burne-Jones trabajó en esta pintura diecisiete años, dejándola definitivamente inacabada con su muerte en 1898. Resulta interesante el grado de identificación que llegó a sentir el artista con la obra. Intuyendo el final de sus días, Burne-Jones se abocó día y noche a su finalización que, infortunadamente, no ocurrió. Se puede leer un interesante artículo al respecto aquí.

"The Last Sleep of Arthur in Avalon", Edward Burne-Jones (1898)

Morris & Co.

Tapetes

Serie de tapetes sobre la búsqueda del Santo Grial que realizó la Morris & Co. en 1890 para el comedor del empresario William Knox D'arcy en Stanmore Hall. 

crédito

Vitrina

"Defence of Guenevere, and other poems"

La Defensa de la reina Ginebra,
por William Morris (1858) crédito

THE DEFENCE OF GUENEVERE.

But, knowing now that they would have her speak,
She threw her wet hair backward from her brow,
Her hand close to her mouth touching her cheek,

As though she had had there a shameful blow,

5

And feeling it shameful to feel ought but shame  
All through her heart, yet felt her cheek burned so,

She must a little touch it; like one lame
She walked away from Gauwaine, with her head
Still lifted up; and on her cheek of flame

10

The tears dried quick; she stopped at last and said: 
“O knights and lords, it seems but little skill
To talk of well-known things past now and dead.

"God wot I ought to say, I have done ill,
And pray you all forgiveness heartily!

15

Because you must be right such great lords—still                                  

"Listen, suppose your time were come to die,
And you were quite alone and very weak;
Yea, laid a dying while very mightily

"The wind was ruffling up the narrow streak

20

Of river through your broad lands running well:                         
Suppose a hush should come, then some one speak:

"'One of these cloths is heaven, and one is hell,
Now choose one cloth for ever, which they be,
I will not tell you, you must somehow tell

25

"'Of your own strength and mightiness; here, see!'                                 
Yea, yea, my lord, and you to ope your eyes,

[p. 46]

At foot of your familiar bed to see

"A great God's angel standing, with such dyes,
Not known on earth, on his great wings, and hands, 

30

Held out two ways, light from the inner skies                            

"Showing him well, and making his commands
Seem to be God's commands, moreover, too,
Holding within his hands the cloths on wands;

"And one of these strange choosing cloths was blue, 

35

Wavy and long, and one cut short and red;                                           
No man could tell the better of the two.

"After a shivering half-hour you said,
'God help! heaven's colour, the blue;' and he said, 'hell.'
Perhaps you then would roll upon your bed,

40

"And cry to all good men that loved you well,                           
'Ah Christ! if only I had known, known, known;'
Launcelot went away, then I could tell,

"Like wisest man how all things would be, moan,
And roll and hurt myself, and long to die, 

45

And yet fear much to die for what was sown.                                       

"Nevertheless you, O Sir Gauwaine, lie,
Whatever may have happened through these years,
God knows I speak truth, saying that you lie."

Her voice was low at first, being full of tears, 

50

But as it cleared, it grew full loud and shrill,                                           
Growing a windy shriek in all men's ears,

A ringing in their startled brains, until
She said that Gauwaine lied, then her voice sunk,
And her great eyes began again to fill,

55

Though still she stood right up, and never shrunk,                                  
But spoke on bravely, glorious lady fair!
Whatever tears her full lips may have drunk,

She stood, and seemed to think, and wrung her hair,
Spoke out at last with no more trace of shame, 

60

With passionate twisting of her body there:                                           

"It chanced upon a day that Launcelot came

[p. 47]

 To dwell at Arthur's court: at Christmas-time
This happened; when the heralds sung his name,

"'Son of King Ban of Benwick,' seemed to chime 

65

Along with all the bells that rang that day,                                             
O'er the white roofs, with little change of rhyme.

"Christmas and whitened winter passed away,
And over me the April sunshine came,
Made very awful with black hail-clouds, yea

70

"And in Summer I grew white with flame,                                             
And bowed my head down—Autumn, and the sick
Sure knowledge things would never be the same,

"However often Spring might be most thick
Of blossoms and buds, smote on me, and I grew

75

Careless of most things, let the clock tick, tick,                         

"To my unhappy pulse, that beat right through
My eager body; while I laughed out loud,
And let my lips curl up at false or true,

"Seemed cold and shallow without any cloud.

80

Behold my judges, then the cloths were brought:                                   
While I was dizzied thus, old thoughts would crowd,

"Belonging to the time ere I was bought
By Arthur's great name and his little love,
Must I give up for ever then, I thought,

85

"That which I deemed would ever round me move                                
Glorifying all things; for a little word,
Scarce ever meant at all, must I now prove

"Stone-cold for ever? Pray you, does the Lord
Will that all folks should be quite happy and good? 

90

I love God now a little, if this cord                                                        

"Were broken, once for all what striving could
Make me love anything in earth or heaven.
So day by day it grew, as if one should

"Slip slowly down some path worn smooth and even, 

95

Down to a cool sea on a summer day;                                      

[p. 48]

Yet still in slipping there was some small leaven

"Of stretched hands catching small stones by the way,
Until one surely reached the sea at last,
And felt strange new joy as the worn head lay

100

"Back, with the hair like sea-weed; yea all past                         
Sweat of the forehead, dryness of the lips,
Washed utterly out by the dear waves o'ercast

"In the lone sea, far off from any ships!
Do I not know now of a day in Spring? 

105

No minute of that wild day ever slips                                                    

"From out my memory; I hear thrushes sing,
And wheresoever I may be, straightway
Thoughts of it all come up with most fresh sting;

"I was half mad with beauty on that day, 

110

And went without my ladies all alone,                                       
In a quiet garden walled round every way;

"I was right joyful of that wall of stone,
That shut the flowers and trees up with the sky,
And trebled all the beauty: to the bone,

115

"Yea right through to my heart, grown very shy                         
With weary thoughts, it pierced, and made me glad;
Exceedingly glad, and I knew verily,

"A little thing just then had made me mad;
I dared not think, as I was wont to do, 

120

Sometimes, upon my beauty; if I had                                                    

"Held out my long hand up against the blue,
And, looking on the tenderly darken'd fingers,
Thought that by rights one ought to see quite through,

"There, see you, where the soft still light yet lingers, 

125

Round by the edges; what should I have done,                         
If this had joined with yellow spotted singers,

"And startling green drawn upward by the sun?
But shouting, loosed out, see now! all my hair,
And trancedly stood watching the west wind run

[p. 49]

130

"With faintest half-heard breathing sound—why there                
I lose my head e'en now in doing this;
But shortly listen—In that garden fair

"Came Launcelot walking; this is true, the kiss
Wherewith we kissed in meeting that spring day, 

135

I scarce dare talk of the remember'd bliss,                                            

"When both our mouths went wandering in one way,
And aching sorely, met among the leaves;
Our hands being left behind strained far away.

"Never within a yard of my bright sleeves 

140

Had Launcelot come before—and now, so nigh!                                   
After that day why is it Guenevere grieves?

"Nevertheless you, O Sir Gauwaine, lie,
Whatever happened on through all those years,
God knows I speak truth, saying that you lie.

145

"Being such a lady could I weep these tears                                          
If this were true? A great queen such as I
Having sinn'd this way, straight her conscience sears;

"And afterwards she liveth hatefully,
Slaying and poisoning, certes never weeps,—

150

Gauwaine be friends now, speak me lovingly.                           

"Do I not see how God's dear pity creeps
All through your frame, and trembles in your mouth?
Remember in what grave your mother sleeps,

"Buried in some place far down in the south, 

155

Men are forgetting as I speak to you;                                                   
By her head sever'd in that awful drouth

"Of pity that drew Agravaine's fell blow,
I pray your pity! let me not scream out
For ever after, when the shrill winds blow

160

"Through half your castle-locks! let me not shout                                  
For ever after in the winter night
When you ride out alone! in battle-rout

"Let not my rusting tears make your sword light!
Ah! God of mercy how he turns away! 

165

So, ever must I dress me to the fight,                                                    

[p. 50]

"So—let God's justice work! Gauwaine, I say,
See me hew down your proofs: yea all men know
Even as you said how Mellyagraunce one day,

"One bitter day in la Fausse Garde, for so 

170

All good knights held it after, saw—                                                      
Yea, sirs, by cursed unknightly outrage; though

"You, Gauwaine, held his word without a flaw,
This Mellyagraunce saw blood upon my bed—
Whose blood then pray you? is there any law

175

"To make a queen say why some spots of red                          
Lie on her coverlet? or will you say,
'Your hands are white, lady, as when you wed,

"'Where did you bleed?' and must I stammer out—
Nay, I blush indeed, fair lord, only to rend 

180

My sleeve up to my shoulder, where there lay                           

"'A knife-point last night:' so must I defend
The honour of the lady Guenevere?
Not so, fair lords, even if the world should end

"This very day, and you were judges here 

185

Instead of God. Did you see Mellyagraunce                                         
When Launcelot stood by him? what white fear

"Curdled his blood, and how his teeth did dance,
His side sink in? as my knight cried and said,
'Slayer of unarm'd men, here is a chance!

190

"'Setter of traps, I pray you guard your head,                            
By God I am so glad to fight with you,
Stripper of ladies, that my hand feels lead

"'For driving weight; hurrah now! draw and do,
For all my wounds are moving in my breast, 

195

And I am getting mad with waiting so.'                                      

"He struck his hands together o'er the beast,
Who fell down flat, and grovell'd at his feet,
And groan'd at being slain so young—'at least,'

"My knight said, 'Rise you, sir, who are so fleet

[p. 51]

200

At catching ladies, half-arm’d will I fight,                                              
My left side all uncovered!’  then I weet,

“Up sprang Sir Mellyagraunce with great delight
Upon his knave’s face; not until just then
Did I quite hate him, as I saw my knight

205

“Along the lists look to my stake and pen                                             
With such a joyous smile, it made me sigh
From agony beneath my waist-chain, when

“The fight began, and to me they drew nigh;
Ever Sir Launcelot kept him on the right, 

210

And traversed warily, and ever high                                                      

“And fast leapt caitiff’s sword, until my knight
Sudden threw up his sword to his left hand,
Caught it, and swung it;  that was all the fight,

“Except a spout of blood on the hot land;

215

For it was hottest summer;  and I know                                                
I wonder’d how the fire, while I should stand

“And burn, against the heat, would quiver so,
Yards above my head;  thus these matters went;
Which things were only warnings of the woe

220

“That fell on me.  Yet Mellyagraunce was shent,                                   
For Mellyagraunce had fought against the Lord;
Therefore, my lords, take heed lest you be blent

“With all this wickedness;  say no rash word
Against me, being so beautiful; my eyes,

225

Wept all away to grey, may bring some sword                          

“To drown you in your blood; see my breast rise,
Like waves of purple sea, as here I stand;
And how my arms are moved in wonderful wise,

“Yea also at my full heart’s strong command,

230

See through my long throat how the words go up                                  
In ripples to my mouth;  how in my hand

“The shadow likes like wine within a cup

[p. 52]

Of marvellously colour'd gold; yea now
This little wind is rising, look you up,

235

"And wonder how the light is falling so                                      
Within my moving tresses: will you dare,
When you have looked a little on my brow,

"To say this thing is vile? or will you care
For any plausible lies of cunning woof, 

240

When you can see my face with no lie there                                          

"For ever? am I not a gracious proof—
'But in your chamber Launcelot was found'—
Is there a good knight then would stand aloof,

"When a queen says with gentle queenly sound: 

245

'O true as steel come now and talk with me,                                         
I love to see your step upon the ground

"'Unwavering, also well I love to see
That gracious smile light up your face, and hear
Your wonderful words, that all mean verily

250

"'The thing they seem to mean: good friend, so dear                              
To me in everything, come here to-night,
Or else the hours will pass most dull and drear;

"'If you come not, I fear this time I might
Get thinking over much of times gone by,

255

When I was young, and green hope was in sight;                                  

"'For no man cares now to know why I sigh;
And no man comes to sing me pleasant songs,
Nor any brings me the sweet flowers that lie

"'So thick in the gardens; therefore one so longs 

260

To see you, Launcelot; that we may be                                     
Like children once again, free from all wrongs

"'Just for one night.' Did he not come to me?
What thing could keep true Launcelot away
If I said 'come?' there was one less than three

265

"In my quiet room that night, and we were gay;                         
Till sudden I rose up, weak, pale, and sick,
Because a bawling broke our dream up, yea

"I looked at Launcelot's face and could not speak,
For he looked helpless too, for a little while; 

270

Then I remember how I tried to shriek,                                     

[p. 53]

"And could not, but fell down; from tile to tile
The stones they threw up rattled o'er my head,
And made me dizzier; till within a while

"My maids were all about me, and my head

275

On Launcelot's breast was being soothed away                        
From its white chattering, until Launcelot said—

"By God! I will not tell you more to-day,
Judge any way you will—what matters it?
You know quite well the story of that fray,

280

"How Launcelot still'd their bawling, the mad fit                                    
That caught up Gauwaine—all, all, verily,
But just that which would save me; these things flit.

"Nevertheless you, O Sir Gauwaine, lie,
Whatever may have happen'd these long years,

285

God knows I speak truth, saying that you lie!                            

"All I have said is truth, by Christ's dear tears."
She would not speak another word, but stood
Turn'd sideways; listening, like a man who hears

His brother's trumpet sounding through the wood

290

Of his foes' lances. She lean'd eagerly,                                      
And gave a slight spring sometimes, as she could

At last hear something really; joyfully
Her cheek grew crimson, as the headlong speed
Of the roan charger drew all men to see,

295

The knight who came was Launcelot at good need

"Queen Guinevere (La Belle Iseult)"

Esta pintura posee la particularidad de ser la única que terminó William Morris. Morris, a pesar de su asociación con la Hermandad Prerrafaelista, nunca confió en su talento para la pintura. Sin embargo, luego adquiriría popularidad como diseñador y artesano al fundar Morris & Co. y sus ideas sobre recuperar la calidad de la manufactura artesanal (tal como se hacía en la Edad Media) inspirarían el movimiento de Arts & Crafts. 

El nombre de la pintura relaciona la figura de la reina Ginebra con la de la adúltera Isolda. La modelo de la pintura, Jane Burden, se casaría con Morris un año después de acabada esta. Curiosamente, también la propia Jane, quien permaneció casada con Morris hasta la muerte de este en 1896, mantuvo relaciones extra maritales, en su caso con el poeta Wilfrid Blunt y, posiblemente, con el prerrafaelista Dante Gabriel Rossetti. 

"Queen Guinevere (La Belle Iseult)", William Morris (1858)

crédito

"Morgan Le Fay"

Morgan Le Fay o Morgana, media hermana del rey Arturo, puede o no actuar como su antagonista dependiendo de la fuente. A pesar de que la versión de Morgana-antagonista ha adquirido mayor popularidad, algunos relatos la colocan como una de las tres mujeres que escoltan al moribundo Arturo hacia la isla de Avalon.

"Morgan Le Fay", Frederick Augustus Sandys (1864)

crédito

"The Damsel of the Holy Grail"

Tanto la profusión de rojo en las vestiduras y el cabello como la vid hacen alusión al sacrificio de la Eucaristía. La identificación del Santo Grial con el cáliz que utilizó Cristo en la Última Cena demuestra la paulatina asimilación del cristianismo a la figura del rey Arturo. 

"The Damsel of the Holy Grail", Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1874)

"Idylls of the King" (1859-1885)

A pesar de figurar como uno de los poemas más conocidos de Alfred, Lord Tennyson, La Dama de Shalott se inserta en una larga lista de composiciones que realizó este, uno de los grandes poetas victorianos, en torno a la Materia de Bretaña. En "Idylls of the King", Tennyson desarrolla ampliamente el mito artúrico a través de doce poemas narrativos. A lo largo de los años, estos poemas han contribuido en gran medida a ensalzar el espíritu patriótico inglés.

Los poemas se pueden consultar en esta dirección.

"The Beguiling of Merlin"

Este cuadro fue pintado por el prerrafaelista Edward Burne-Jones. En él retrata una escena donde Nimue, una de las tantas denominaciones de la Dama de Lago (famosa por haber criado a Sir Lancelot y por haber dotado al rey Arturo de la legendaria espada Excalibur), tras haber seducido a Merlín so pretexto de obtener los secretos de sus poderes mágicos, lee su libro de hechizos. La Dama con el tiempo se volvió más poderosa que su maestro y ellos contribuyó con la decadencia del reinado de Arturo. (crédito)

"The Beguiling of Merlin", Edward Burne-Jones (1872-1877)

crédito

Ilustraciones de "Idylls of the King" por Gustave Doré

Ilustraciones que realizó el afamado artista Gustave Dore (1832-1883) para acompañar a los poemas de Lord Tennyson en la edición del año 1875.

"The Egyptian Maid or The Romance of the Water-Lily"

Este poema narra la historia de la doncella egipcia, la cual será desposada por Sir Galahad al final del mismo. 

The Egyptian Maid or The Romance of the Water-Lily

por William Wordsworth (1835) crédito

While Merlin paced the Cornish sands,
   Forth-looking toward the Rocks of Scilly,
   The pleased Enchanter was aware
   Of a bright Ship that seemed to hang in air,
   Yet was she work of mortal hands,
And took from men her name – THE WATER LILY.

   Soft was the wind, that landward blew;
   And, as the Moon, o'er some dark hill ascendant,
   Grows from a little edge of light
   To a full orb, this Pinnace bright,
   As nearer to the Coast she drew,
Appeared more glorious, with spread sail and pendant.

   Upon this winged Shape so fair
   Sage Merlin gazed with admiration:
   Her lineaments, thought he, surpass
   Aught that was ever shown in magic glass;
   In patience built with subtle care;
Or, at a touch, set forth with wondrous transformation.

   Now, though a Mechanist, whose skill
   Shames the degenerate grasp of modern science,
   Grave Merlin (and belike the more
   For practising occult and perilous lore)
   Was subject to a freakish will
That sapped good thoughts, or scared them with defiance.

   Provoked to envious spleen, he cast
   An altered look upon the advancing Stranger
   Whom he had hailed with joy, and cried,
   "My Art shall help to tame her pride – "
   Anon the breeze became a blast,
And the waves rose, and sky portended danger.

   With thrilling word, and potent sign
   Traced on the beach, his work the Sorcerer urges;
   The clouds in blacker clouds are lost,
   Like spiteful Fiends that vanish, crossed
   By Fiends of aspect more malign;
And the winds roused the Deep with fiercer scourges.

   But worthy of the name she bore
   Was this Sea-flower, this buoyant Galley;
   Supreme in loveliness and grace
   Of motion, whether in the embrace
   Of trusty anchorage, or scudding o'er
The main flood roughened into hill and valley.

   Behold, how wantonly she laves
   Her sides, the Wizard's craft confounding;
   Like something out of Ocean sprung
   To be for ever fresh and young,
   Breasts the sea-flashes, and huge waves
Top-gallant high, rebounding and rebounding!

   But Ocean under magic heaves,
   And cannot spare the Thing he cherished:
   Ah! what avails that She was fair,
   Luminous, blithe, and debonair?
   The storm has stripped her of her leaves;
The Lily floats no longer! – She hath perished.

   Grieve for her, – She deserves no less;
   So like, yet so unlike, a living Creature!
   No heart had she, no busy brain;
   Though loved, she could not love again;
   Though pitied, feel her own distress;
Nor aught that troubles us, the fools of Nature.

   Yet is there cause for gushing tears;
   So richly was this Galley laden;
   A fairer than Herself she bore,
   And, in her struggles, cast ashore;
   A lovely One, who nothing hears
Of wind or wave – a meek and guileless Maiden.

   Into a cave had Merlin fled
   From mischief, caused by spells himself had muttered;
   And, while repentant all too late,
   In moody posture there he sate,
   He heard a voice, and saw, with half-raised head,
A Visitant by whom these words were uttered:

   "On Christian service this frail Bark
   Sailed" (hear me, Merlin!) "under high protection,
   Though on her prow a sign of heathen power
   Was carved – a Goddess with a Lily flower,
   The old Egyptian's emblematic mark
Of joy immortal and of pure affection.

   "Her course was for the British strand,
   Her freight it was a Damsel peerless;
   God reigns above, and Spirits strong
   May gather to avenge this wrong
   Done to the Princess, and her Land
Which she in duty left, though sad not cheerless.

   "And to Caerleon's loftiest tower
   Soon will the Knights of Arthur's Table
   A cry of lamentation send;
   And all will weep who there attend,
   To grace that Stranger's bridal hour,
For whom the sea was made unnavigable.

   "Shame! should a Child of Royal Line
   Die through the blindness of thy malice:"
   Thus to the Necromancer spake
   Nina, the Lady of the Lake,
   A gentle Sorceress, and benign,
Who ne'er embittered any good man's chalice.

   "What boots," continued she, "to mourn?
   To expiate thy sin endeavour!
   From the bleak isle where she is laid,
   Fetched by our art, the Egyptian Maid
   May yet to Arthur's court be borne
Cold as she is, ere life be fled for ever.

   "My pearly Boat, a shining Light,
   That brought me down that sunless river,
   Will bear me on from wave to wave,
   And back with her to this sea-cave;
   Then Merlin! for a rapid flight
Through air to thee my charge will I deliver.

   "The very swiftest of thy Cars
   Must, when my part is done, be ready;
   Meanwhile, for further guidance, look
   Into thy own prophetic book;
   And, if that fail, consult the Stars
To learn thy course; farewell! be prompt and steady."

   This scarcely spoken, she again
   Was seated in her gleaming Shallop,
   That, o'er the yet-distempered Deep,
   Pursued its way with bird-like sweep,
   Or like a steed, without a rein,
Urged o'er the wilderness in sportive gallop.

   Soon did the gentle Nina reach
   That Isle without a house or haven;
   Landing, she found not what she sought,
   Nor saw of wreck or ruin aught
   But a carved Lotus cast upon the shore
By the fierce waves, a flower in marble graven.

   Sad relique, but how fair the while!
   For gently each from each retreating
   With backward curve, the leaves revealed
   The bosom half, and half concealed,
   Of a Divinity, that seemed to smile
On Nina as she passed, with hopeful greeting.

   No quest was hers of vague desire,
   Of tortured hope and purpose shaken;
   Following the margin of a bay,
   She spied the lonely Cast-away,
   Unmarred, unstripped of her attire,
But with closed eyes, – of breath and bloom forsaken.

   Then Nina, stooping down, embraced,
   With tenderness and mild emotion,
   The Damsel, in that trance embound;
   And, while she raised her from the ground,
   And in the pearly shallop placed,
Sleep fell upon the air, and stilled the ocean.

   The turmoil hushed, celestial springs
   Of music opened, and there came a blending
   Of fragrance, underived from earth,
   With gleams that owed not to the Sun their birth,
   And that soft rustling of invisible wings
Which Angels make, on works of love descending.

   And Nina heard a sweeter voice
   Than if the Goddess of the Flower had spoken:
   "Thou hast achieved, fair Dame! what none
   Less pure in spirit could have done;
   Go, in thy enterprise rejoice!
Air, earth, sea, sky, and heaven, success betoken."

   So cheered she left that Island bleak,
   A bare rock of the Scilly cluster;
   And, as they traversed the smooth brine,
   The self-illumined Brigantine
   Shed, on the Slumberer's cold wan cheek
And pallid brow, a melancholy lustre.

   Fleet was their course, and when they came
   To the dim cavern, whence the river
   Issued into the salt-sea flood,
   Merlin, as fixed in thought he stood,
   Was thus accosted by the Dame:
"Behold to thee my Charge I now deliver!

   "But where attends thy chariot – where?"
   Quoth Merlin, "Even as I was bidden,
   So have I done; as trusty as thy barge
   My vehicle shall prove – O precious Charge!
   If this be sleep, how soft! if death, how fair!
Much have my books disclosed, but the end is hidden."

   He spake, and gliding into view
   Forth from the grotto's dimmest chamber
   Came two mute Swans, whose plumes of dusky white
   Changed, as the pair approached the light,
   Drawing an ebon car, their hue
(Like clouds of sunset) into lucid amber.

   Once more did gentle Nina lift
   The Princess, passive to all changes:
   The car received her; then up-went
   Into the ethereal element
   The Birds with progress smooth and swift
As thought, when through bright regions memory ranges.

   Sage Merlin, at the Slumberer's side,
   Instructs the Swans their way to measure;
   And soon Caerleon's towers appeared,
   And notes of minstrelsy were heard
   From rich pavilions spreading wide,
For some high day of long-expected pleasure.

   Awe-stricken stood both Knights and Dames
   Ere on firm ground the car alighted;
   Eftsoons astonishment was past,
   For in that face they saw the last
   Last lingering look of clay, that tames
All pride, by which all happiness is blighted.

   Said Merlin, "Mighty King, fair Lords,
   Away with feast and tilt and tourney!
   Ye saw, throughout this Royal House,
   Ye heard, a rocking marvellous
   Of turrets, and a clash of swords
Self-shaken, as I closed my airy journey.

   "Lo! by a destiny well known
   To mortals, joy is turned to sorrow;
   This is the wished-for Bride, the Maid
   Of Egypt, from a rock conveyed
   Where she by shipwreck had been thrown;
Ill sight! but grief may vanish ere the morrow."

   "Though vast thy power, thy words are weak,"
   Exclaimed the King, "a mockery hateful;
   Dutiful Child! her lot how hard!
   Is this her piety's reward?
   Those watery locks, that bloodless cheek!
O winds without remorse!   O shore ungrateful!

   "Rich robes are fretted by the moth;
   Towers, temples, fall by stroke of thunder;
   Will that, or deeper thoughts, abate
   A Father's sorrow for her fate?
   He will repent him of his troth;
His brain will burn, his stout heart split asunder.

   "Alas! and I have caused this woe;
   For, when my prowess from invading Neighbours
   Had freed his Realm, he plighted word
   That he would turn to Christ our Lord,
   And his dear Daughter on a Knight bestow
Whom I should choose for love and matchless labours.

   "Her birth was heathen, but a fence
   Of holy Angels round her hovered;
   A Lady added to my court
   So fair, of such divine report
   And worship, seemed a recompence
For fifty kingdoms by my sword recovered.

   "Ask not for whom, O champions true!
   She was reserved by me her life's betrayer;
   She who was meant to be a bride
   Is now a corse; then put aside
   Vain thoughts, and speed ye, with observance due
Of Christian rites, in Christian ground to lay her."

   "The tomb," said Merlin, "may not close
   Upon her yet, earth hide her beauty;
   Not froward to thy sovereign will
   Esteem me, Liege! if I, whose skill
   Wafted her hither, interpose
To check this pious haste of erring duty.

   "My books command me to lay bare
   The secret thou art bent on keeping;
   Here must a high attest be given,
   What Bridegroom was for her ordained by Heaven;
   And in my glass significants there are
Of things that may to gladness turn this weeping.

   "For this, approaching, One by One,
   Thy Knights must touch the cold hand of the Virgin;
   So, for the favoured One, the Flower may bloom
   Once more; but, if unchangeagble her doom,
   If life departed be for ever gone,
Some blest assurance, from this cloud emerging,

   May teach him to bewail his loss;
   Not with a grief that, like a vapour, rises
   And melts; but grief devout that shall endure
   And a perpetual growth secure
   Of purposes which no false thought shall cross
A harvest of high hopes and noble enterprises."

   "So be it," said the King; – "anon,
   Here, where the Princess lies, begin the trial;
   Knights each in order as ye stand
   Step forth." – To touch the pallid hand
   Sir Agravaine advanced; no sign he won
From Heaven or Earth; – Sir Kaye had like denial.

   Abashed, Sir Dinas turned away;
   Even for Sir Percival was no disclosure;
   Though he, devoutest of all Champions, ere
   He reached that ebon car, the bier
   Whereon diffused like snow the Damsel lay,
Full thrice had crossed himself in meek composure.

   Imagine (but ye Saints! who can?)
   How in still air the balance trembled;
   The wishes, peradventure the despites
   That overcame some not ungenerous Knights;
   And all the thoughts that lengthened out a span
Of time to Lords and Ladies thus assembled.

   What patient confidence was here!
   And there how many bosoms panted!
   While drawing toward the Car Sir Gawaine, mailed
   For tournament, his Beaver vailed,
   And softly touched; but, to his princely cheer
And high expectancy, no sign was granted.

   Next, disencumbered of his harp,
   Sir Tristram, dear to thousands as a brother,
   Came to the proof, nor grieved that there ensued
   No change; – the fair Izonda he had wooed
   With love too true, a love with pangs too sharp,
From hope too distant, not to dread another.

   Not so Sir Launcelot; – from Heaven's grace
   A sign he craved, tired slave of vain contrition;
   The royal Guinever looked passing glad
   When his touch failed. – Next came Sir Galahad;
   He paused, and stood entranced by that still face
Whose features he had seen in noontide vision.

   For late, as near a murmuring stream
   He rested 'mid an arbour green and shady,
   Nina, the good Enchantress, shed
   A light around his mossy bed;
   And, at her call, a waking dream
Prefigured to his sense the Egyptian Lady.

   Now, while the bright-haired front he bowed,
   And stood, far-kenned by mantle furred with ermine,
   As o'er the insensate Body hung
   The enrapt, the beautiful, the young,
   Belief sank deep into the crowd
That he the solemn issue would determine.

   Nor deem it strange; the Youth had worn
   That very mantle on a day of glory,
   The day when he achieved that matchless feat,
   The marvel of the PERILOUS SEAT,
   Which whosoe'er approached of strength was shorn,
Though King or Knight the most renowned in story.

   He touched with hesitating hand,
   And lo! those Birds, far-famed through Love's dominions,
   The Swans, in triumph clap their wings;
   And their necks play, involved in rings,
   Like sinless snakes in Eden's happy land; –
"Mine is she," cried the Knight; – again they clapped their pinions.

   "Mine was she – mine she is, though dead,
   And to her name my soul shall cleave in sorrow;"
   Whereat, a tender twilight streak
   Of colour dawned upon the Damsel's cheek;
   And her lips, quickening with uncertain red,
Seemed from each other a faint warmth to borrow.

   Deep was the awe, the rapture high,
   Of love emboldened, hope with dread entwining,
   When, to the mouth, relenting Death
   Allowed a soft and flower-like breath,
   Precursor to a timid sigh,
To lifted eyelids, and a doubtful shining.

   In silence did King Arthur gaze
   Upon the signs that pass away or tarry;
   In silence watched the gentle strife
   Of Nature leading back to life;
   Then eased his Soul at length by praise
Of God, and Heaven's pure Queen – the blissful Mary.

   Then said he, "Take her to thy heart
   Sir Galahad! a treasure that God giveth
   Bound by indissoluble ties to thee
   Through mortal change and immortality;
   Be happy and unenvied, thou who art
A goodly Knight that hath no Peer that liveth!"

   Not long the Nuptials were delayed;
   And sage tradition still rehearses
   The pomp the glory of that hour
   When toward the Altar from her bower
   King Arthur led the Egyptian Maid,
And Angels carolled these far-echoed verses; –

        Who shrinks not from alliance
        Of evil with good Powers,
        To God proclaims defiance,
        And mocks whom he adores.

        A Ship to Christ devoted
        From the Land of Nile did go;
        Alas! the bright Ship floated,
        An Idol at her Prow.

        By magic domination
        The Heaven-permitted vent
        Of purblind mortal passion,
        Was wrought her punishment.

        The Flower, the Form within it,
        What served they in her need?
        Her port she could not win it,
        Nor from mishap be freed.

        The tempest overcame her,
        And she was seen no more;
        But gently gently blame her,
        She cast a Pearl ashore.

        The Maid to Jesu hearkened,
        And kept to him her faith,
        Till sense in death was darkened,
        Or sleep akin to death.

        But Angels round her pillow
        Kept watch, a viewless band;
        And, billow favouring billow,
        She reached the destined strand.

        Blest Pair! whate'er befall you,
        Your faith in Him approve
        Who from frail earth can call you,
        To bowers of endless love!