The white-flower'd elder-thicket from the field

Gleam thro' the Gothic archway in the wall.

Then she rode back, clothed on with chastity.

And one low churl, compact of thankless earth,

The fatal byword of all years to come,
Boring a little auger-hole in fear,
Peep'd-but his eyes, before they had
their will,

Were shrivell'd into darkness in his
head,
[who wait
And dropped before him. So the Powers,
On noble deeds, cancell'd a sense mis-
used;
[at once,

And she, that knew not, pass'd; and all

With twelve great shocks of sound, the shameless noon [dred towers, Was clash'd and hammer'd from a hunOne after one; but even then she gain'd Her bower, whence reissuing, robed and crown'd,

To meet her lord, she took the tax away And built herself an everlasting name. 1842.

SIR GALAHAD

My good blade carves the casques of men,
My tough lance thrusteth sure,
My strength is as the strength of ten,
Because my heart is pure.

The shattering trumpet shrilleth high,
The hard brands shiver on the steel,
The splinter'd spear-shafts crack and fly,
The horse and rider reel;

They reel, they roll in clanging lists,

And when the tide of combat stands, Perfume and flowers fall in showers,

That lightly rain from ladies' hands.

How sweet are looks that ladies bend
On whom their favors fall!
For them I battle till the end,

To save from shame and thrall;
But all my heart is drawn above,
My knees are bow'd in crypt and
shrine;

I never felt the kiss of love,

Nor maiden's hand in mine.
More bounteous aspects on me beam,
Me mightier transports move and
thrill;

So keep I fair thro' faith and prayer
A virgin heart in work and will.

When down the stormy crescent goes,
A light before me swims,
Between dark stems the forest glows,
I hear a noise of hymns.
Then by some secret shrine I ride;

I hear a voice, but none are there; The stalls are void, the doors are wide, The tapers burning fair.

Fair gleams the snowy altar-cloth,

The silver vessels sparkle clean, The shrill bell rings, the censer swings, And solemn chants resound between.

Sometimes on lonely mountain-meres I find a magic bark.

I leap on board; no helmsman steers; I float till all is dark.

A gentle sound, an awful light!

Three angels bear the Holy Grail;

With folded feet, in stoles of white,
On sleeping wings they sail.
Ah, blessed vision! blood of God!
My spirit beats her mortal bars,
As down dark tides the glory slides,
And starlike mingles with the stars.

When on my goodly charger borne
Thro' dreaming towns I go,
The cock crows ere the Christmas morn,
The streets are dumb with snow.
The tempest crackles on the leads,

And, ringing, springs from brand and mail;

But o'er the dark a glory spreads,

And gilds the driving hail.

I leave the plain, I climb the height;
No branchy thicket shelter yields;
But blessed forms in whistling storms
Fly o'er waste fens and windy fields.

A maiden knight-to me is given
Such hope, I know not fear;

I yearn to breathe the airs of heaven
That often meet me here.

I muse on joy that will not cease,

Pure spaces clothed in living beams, Pure lilies of eternal peace,

Whose odors haunt my dreams; And, stricken by an angel's hand,

This mortal armor that I wear,

This weight and size, this heart and eyes,

Are touch'd, are turn'd to finest air.

The clouds are broken in the sky,
And thro' the mountain-walls

A rolling organ-harmony

Swells up and shakes and falls.
Then move the trees, the copses nod,
Wings flutter, voices hover clear:
"O just and faithful knight of God!
Ride on the prize is near."
So pass I hostel, hall, and grange;

By bridge and ford, by park and pale,
All-arm'd I ride, whate'er betide,
Until I find the Holy Grail. 1842.

A FAREWELL

FLOW down, cold rivulet, to the sea,
Thy tribute wave deliver;
No more by thee my steps shall be,
For ever and for ever.

Flow, softly flow, by lawn and lea,
A rivulet, then a river;
Nowhere by thee my steps shall be,
For ever and for ever.

And then I look'd up toward a mountaintract,

That girt the region with high cliff and lawn.

I saw that every morning, far withdrawn

Beyond the darkness and the cataract, God made Himself an awful rose of dawn,

Unheeded; and detaching, fold by fold, From those still heights, and, slowly drawing near,

A vapor heavy, hueless, formless, cold, Came floating on for many a month and year,

Unheeded; and I thought I would have spoken,

And warn'd that madman ere it grew

66

We are men of ruin'd blood; Therefore comes it we are wise. Fish are we that love the mud, Rising to no fancy-flies.

"Name and fame! to fly sublime Thro' the courts, the camps, the schools,

Is to be the ball of Time,

Bandied by the hands of fools.

"Friendship!-to be two in one-
Let the canting liar pack!
Well I know, when I am gone,

How she mouths behind my back. "Virtue !-to be good and justEvery heart, when sifted well,

Is a clot of warmer dust,

Mix'd with cunning sparks of hell.

"Tell me tales of thy first loveApril hopes, the fools of chanceTill the graves begin to move,

And the dead begin to dance. "Fill the can and fill the cup; All the windy ways of men Are but dust that rises up. And is lightly laid again.

"Trooping from their mouldy dens The chap-fallen circle spreadsWelcome, fellow-citizens,

Hollow hearts and empty heads!

"You are bones, and what of that?
Every face, however full.
Padded round with flesh and fat,
Is but modell'd on a skull.

"Death is king, and Vivat Rex! Tread a measure on the stones, Madam-if I know your sex

From the fashion of your bones.

"No, I cannot praise the fire

In your eye--nor yet your lip; All the more do I admire Joints of cunning workmanship. "Lo! God's likeness-the groundplan

Neither modell'd, glazed, nor framed; Buss me, thou rough sketch of man, Far too naked to be shamed!

"Drink to Fortune, drink to Chance, While we keep a little breath! Drink to heavy Ignorance!

Hob-and-nob with brother Death!

"Thou art mazed, the night is long,
And the longer night is near--
What! I am not all as wrong
As a bitter jest is dear.

"Youthful hopes, by scores, to all, When the locks are crisp and curl'd; Unto me my maudlin gall

And my mockeries of the world.

"Fill the cup and fill the can ;

Mingle madness, mingle scorn! Dregs of life, and lees of man; Yet we will not die forlorn."

V

The voice grew faint; there came a further change;