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Which was my pride: for thou rememberest how | Yet now, I charge thee, quickly go again,

In those old days, one summer noon, an arm
Rose up from out the bosom of the lake,
Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful,
Holding the sword — and how I rowed acros
And took it, and have worn it, like a king;
And, wheresoever I am sung or told
In after-time, this also shall be known:
But now delay not: take Excalibur,
And fling him far into the middle mere:
Watch what thou seest, and lightly bring me
word."

As thou art lief and dear, and do the thing

I bade thee, watch, and lightly bring me word."

Then went Sir Bedivere the second time Across the ridge, and paced beside the mere, Counting the dewy pebbles, fixed in thought; But when he saw the wonder of the hilt, How curiously and strangely chased, he smote His palms together, and he cried aloud :

:

"And if indeed I cast the brand away, Surely a precious thing, one worthy note, Should thus be lost forever from the earth, Which might have pleased the eyes of many men.

To him replied the bold Sir Bedivere: "It is not meet, Sir King, to leave thee thus, Aidless, alone, and smitten through the helm-What good should follow this, if this were done?

A little thing may harm a wounded man;
Yet I thy hest will all perform at full,
Watch what I see, and lightly bring thee word."

So saying, from the ruined shrine he stept
And in the moon athwart the place of tombs,
Where lay the mighty bones of ancient men,
Old knights, and over them the sea-wind sang
Shrill, chill, with flakes of foam. He, stepping
down

By zigzag paths, and juts of pointed rock,
Came on the shining levels of the lake.

There drew he forth the brand Excalibur
And o'er him, drawing it, the winter moon,
Brightening the skirts of a long cloud, ran forth
And sparkled keen with frost against the hilt:
For all the haft twinkled with diamond sparks,
Myriads of topaz-lights, and jacinth-work
Of subtlest jewelry. He gazed so long
That both his eyes were dazzled as he stood,
This way and that dividing the swift mind,
In act to throw but at the last it seemed
Better to leave Excalibur concealed
There in the many-knotted water-flags,
That whistled stiff and dry about the marge.
So strode he back slow to the wounded King.

:

Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere : "Hast thou performed my mission which I gave? What is it thou hast seen? or what hast heard?"

And answer made the bold Sir Bedivere: "I heard the ripple washing in the reeds, And the wild water lapping on the crag."

To whom replied King Arthur, faint and pale: "Thou hast betrayed thy nature and thy name, Not rendering true answer, as beseemed Thy fealty, nor like a noble knight: For surer sign had followed, either hand, Or voice, or else a motion of the mere. This is a shameful thing for men to lie.

What harm, undone? deep harm to disobey,
Seeing obedience is the bond of rule.
Were it well to obey then, if a king demand
An act unprofitable, against himself?
The King is sick, and knows not what he does.
What record, or what relic of my lord
Should be to after-time, but empty breath
And rumors of a doubt? but were this kept,
Stored in some treasure-house of mighty kings,
Some one might show it at a joust of arms,
Saying, 'King Arthur's sword, Excalibur,
Wrought by the lonely maiden of the Lake.
Nine years she wrought it, sitting in the deeps
Upon the hidden bases of the hills.'
So might some old man speak in the after-time
To all the people, winning reverence.

But now much honor and much fame were lost."

So spake he, clouded with his own conceit, And hid Excalibur the second time, And so strode back slow to the wounded King.

Then spoke King Arthur, breathing heavily: "What is it thou hast seen? or what hast heard?"

And answer made the bold Sir Bedivere: "I heard the water lapping on the crag, And the long ripple washing in the reeds."

To whom replied King Arthur, much in wrath: Ah, miserable and unkind, untrue, Unknightly, traitor-hearted! Woe is me! Authority forgets a dying king, Laid widowed of the power in his eye That bowed the will. I see thee what thou art, For thou, the latest-left of all my knights In whom should meet the offices of all, Thou wouldst betray me for the precious hilt; Either from lust of gold, or like a girl Valuing the giddy pleasure of the eyes. Yet, for a man may fail in duty twice, And the third time may prosper, get thee hence: But, if thou spare to fling Excalibur,

I will arise and slay thee with my hands."

Then quickly rose Sir Bedivere, and ran, And, leaping down the ridges lightly, plunged Among the bulrush-beds, and clutched the sword, And strongly wheeled and threw it. The great brand

Made lightnings in the splendor of the moon, And flashing round and round, and whirled in an arch,

Shot like a streamer of the northern morn,
Seen where the moving isles of winter shock
By night, with noises of the northern sea.
So flashed and fell the brand Excalibur :
But ere he dipt the surface, rose an arm
Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful,
And caught him by the hilt, and brandished him
Three times, and drew him under in the mere.
And lightly went the other to the King.

Then spoke King Arthur, drawing thicker

breath:

"Now see I by thine eyes that this is done. Speak out what is it thou hast heard, or seen?"

And answer made the bold Sir Bedivere: "Sir King, I closed mine eyelids, lest the gems Should blind my purpose, for I never saw, Nor shall see, here or elsewhere, till I die, Not though I live three lives of mortal men, So great a miracle as yonder hilt.

Then with both hands I flung him, wheeling him; But when I looked again, behold an arm, Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful, That caught him by the hilt, and brandished him Three times, and drew him under in the mere."

And answer made King Arthur, breathing hard : "My end draws nigh; 't is time that I were gone. Make broad thy shoulders to receive my weight,

And bear me to the margin; yet I fear
My wound hath taken cold, and I shall die."

So saying, from the pavement he half rose, Slowly, with pain, reclining on his arm, And looking wistfully with wide blue eyes As in a picture. Him Sir Bedivere Remorsefully regarded through his tears, And would have spoken, but he found not words; Then took with care, and kneeling on one knee, O'er both his shoulders drew the languid hands, And rising bore him through the place of tombs.

But, as he walked, King Arthur panted hard, Like one that feels a nightmare on his bed When all the house is mute. So sighed the King, Muttering and murmuring at his ear "Quick, quick!

I fear it is too late, and I shall die."

Clothed with his breath, and looking, as he walked,
Larger than human on the frozen hills.
He heard the deep behind him, and a cry
Before. His own thought drove him like a goad.
Dry clashed his harness in the icy caves
And barren chasms, and all to left and right
The bare black cliff clanged round him, as he based
His feet on juts of slippery crag that rang
Sharp-smitten with the dint of arméd heels -
And on a sudden, lo! the levél lake,
And the long glories of the winter moon.

Then saw they how there hove a dusky barge, Dark as a funeral scarf from stem to stern, Beneath them; and descending they were ware That all the decks were dense with stately forms, Black-stoled, black-hooded, like a dream, by these

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So like a shattered column lay the King;
Not like that Arthur, who, with lance in rest,

From spur to plume a star of tournament,
Shot through the lists at Camelot, and charged
Before the eyes of ladies and of kings.

Then loudly cried the bold Sir Bedivere: "Ah! my Lord Arthur, whither shall I go?

But the other swiftly strode from ridge to ridge, Where shall I hide my forehead and my eyes?

For now I see the true old times are dead,
When every morning brought a noble chance,
And every chance brought out a noble knight.
Such times have been not since the light that led
The holy Elders with the gift of myrrh.
But now the whole Round Table is dissolved
Which was an image of the mighty world;
And I, the last, go forth companionless,
And the days darken round me,
and the years,
Among new men, strange faces, other minds."

And slowly answered Arthur from the barge:
"The old order changeth, yielding place to new,
And God fulfils himself in many ways,
Lest one good custom should corrupt the world.
Comfort thyself: what comfort is in me?

I have lived my life, and that which I have done
May He within himself make pure! but thou,
If thou shouldst never see my face again,
Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by

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Rise like a fountain for me night and day.
For what are men better than sheep or goats
That nourish a blind life within the brain,
If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer
Both for themselves and those who call them
friend?

For so the whole round earth is every way
Bound by gold chains about the feet of God.
But now farewell. I am going a long way
With these thou seest, if indeed I go
(For all my mind is clouded with a doubt) —
To the island-valley of Avilion ;
Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow,
Nor ever wind blows loudly; but it lies
Deep-meadowed, happy, fair with orchard-lawns
And bowery hollows crowned with summer sea,
Where I will heal me of my grievous wound."

So said he, and the barge with oar and sail Moved from the brink, like some full-breasted

swan,

That, fluting a wild carol ere her death,
Raffles her pure cold plume, and takes the flood
With swarthy webs. Long stood Sir Bedivere
Revolving many memories, till the hull
Looked one black dot against the verge of dawn,
And on the mere the wailing died away.

ALFRED TENNYSON.

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and turned them out,

That none should know their secret; they labored all that night;

They were ready for the combat with the morning light.

The Cid was in his armor mounted at their head; He spoke aloud amongst them; you shall hear the words he said:

"We must all sally forth! There cannot a man be spared,

Two footmen only at the gates to close them and keep guard;

If we are slain in battle, they will bury us here in peace,

If we survive and conquer, our riches will increase. And you, Pero Bermuez, the standard you must bear;

Advance it like a valiant man, evenly and fair, But do not venture forward before I give command."

Bermuez took the standard, he went and kist

his hand.

The gates were then thrown open, and forth at once they rushed.

THE SALLY OF THE CID FROM THE The outposts of the Moorish host back to the

CASTLE OF ALCOCES.

FROM "THE POEM OF THE CID."

camp were pushed;

The camp was all in tumult, and there was such a thunder

THEY fain would sally forth, but he, the noble Cid, Of
Accounted it as rashness, and constantly forbid. |

cymbals and of drums, as if earth would cleave in sunder.

There you might see the Moors arming them- | And many a Moorish shield lie shattered on the selves in haste, plain, And the two main battles how they were forming The pennons that were white marked with a fast; crimson stain, Horsemen and footmen mixt, a countless troop The horses running wild whose riders had been and vast. slain.

The Moors are moving forward, the battle soon The Christians call upon St. James, the Moors

must join.

"My men, stand here in order, ranged upon a line! Let not a man move from his rank before I give the sign."

upon Mahound,

There were thirteen hundred of them slain on a little spot of ground.

Minaya Alvar Fañez smote with all his might, Pero Bermuez heard the word, but he could not He went as he was wont, and was foremost in the refrain. He held the banner in his hand, he gave his There was Galin Garcia, of courage firm and horse the rein; clear;

fight;

"You see yon foremost squadron there, the Felez Munioz, the Cid's own cousin dear; Antolinez of Burgos, a hardy knight and keen,

thickest of the foes,

Noble Cid, God be your aid, for there your banner Munio Gustioz, his pupil that had been;

goes!

Let him that serves and honors it show the duty that he owes."

Earnestly the Cid called out, "For Heaven's sake, be still!"

The Cid on his gilded saddle above them all was

seen;

There was Martin Munioz that ruled in Mont

mayor;

There were Alvar Fañez and Alvar Salvador ; Bermuez cried, "I cannot hold," so eager was his These were the followers of the Cid, with many will. others more, He spurred his horse and drove him on amid the In rescue of Bermuez and the standard that he Moorish rout; bore.

They strove to win the banner, and compast him Minaya is dismounted, his courser has been slain, He fights upon his feet, and smites with might and main.

about;

Had not his armor been so true, he had lost either life or limb.

The Cid came all in haste to help him to horse again.

The Cid called out again, "For Heaven's sake. He saw a Moor well mounted, thereof he was

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Three hundred bannered knights, it was a gallant show:

Three hundred Moors they killed, a man with every blow;

When they wheeled and turned, as many more lay slain,

full fain;

Through the girdle at a stroke he cast him to the

plain;

He called to Minaya Fañez and reached him out the rein,

"Mount and ride, Minaya, you are my right hand; We shall have need of you to-day, these Moors

will not disband!"

Minaya leapt upon the horse, his sword was in his hand,

Nothing that came near him could resist him or withstand;

All that fall within his reach he despatches as he goes.

The Cid rode to King Fariz, and struck at him three blows ;

The third was far the best, it forced the blood to flow:

The stream ran from his side, and stained his arms below;

back to go.

You might see them raise their lances and level The King caught round the rein, and turned his them again; There you might see the breastplates, how they The Cid has won the battle with that single blow.

were cleft in twain,

By an anonymous translator in the appendix to SOUTHEY'S translation of "The Chronicle of the Cid."

The mother who conceals her grief.
While to her breast her son she presses,
Then brathes fere brave words and trief,
Rissing the pamet brow she blesses, -

With

but her secret god,

To know

the pain that

weighs upon der,

Sheds holy blood as her the sod
Received on Freedoms field of

honor.

J. Buchanan Rency

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