"Flos Regum Arthurus."
JOSEPH OF EXETER.
THESE to his memory - since he held them dear, Perchance as finding there unconsciously
Some image of himself—I dedicate,
I dedicate, I consecrate with tears
And indeed he seems to me Scarce other than my own ideal knight, "Who reverenced his conscience as his king; Whose glory was, redressing human wrong; Who spake no slander, no, nor listened to it; Who loved one only and who clave to her" Her -over all whose realms to their last isle, Coramingled with the gloom of imminent war The shadow of his loss moved like eclipse, Darkening the world. We have lost him: he is gone We know him now: all narrow jealousies Are silent; and we see him as he moved, How modest, kindly, all accomplish'd, wise, With what sublime repression of himself, And in what limits, and how tenderly; Not swaying to this faction or to that; Not making his high place the lawless perch Of wing'd ambitions, nor a vantage ground For pleasure; but thro' all this tract of years Wearing the white flower of a blameless life, Before a thousand peering littlenesses,
In that fierce light which beats upon a throne, And blackens every blot: for where is he, Who dares foreshadow for an only son A lovelier life, a more unstain'd, than his? Or how should England dreaming of his sons Hope more for these than some inheritance Of such a life, a heart, a mind as thine, Thou noble Father of her Kings to be, Laborious for her people and her poor Voice in the rich dawn of an ampler day
Far-sighted summoner of war and waste To fruitful strifes and rivalries of peace Sweet nature gilded by the gracious gleam Of letters, dear to Science, dear to Art, Dear to thy land and ours, a Prince indeed, Beyond all titles, and a household name, Hereafter, through all times, Albert the Good.
Break not, O woman's heart, but still endure; Break not, for thou art Royal, but endure, Remembering all the beauty of that star Which shone so close beside thee, that ye made One light together, but has past and left The Crown a lonely splendor.
His love, unseen but felt, o'ershadow thee, The love of all thy sons encompass thee, The love of all thy daughters cherish thee, The love of all thy people comfort thee, Till God's love set thee at his side again!
THE brave Geraint, a knight of Arthur's court, A tributary prince of Devon, one
Of that great order of the Table Round, Had wedded Enid, Yniol's only child,
And loved her, as he loved the light of Heaven. And as the light of Heaven varies, now At sunrise, now at sunset, now by night With moon and trembling stars, so loved Geraint To make her beauty vary day by day, In crimsons and in purples and in gems. And Enid, but to please her husband's eye, Who first had found and loved her in a state Of broken fortunes, daily fronted him
In some fresh splendour; and the Queen herself, Grateful to Prince Geraint for service done, Loved her, and often with her own white hands Array'd and deck'd her, as the loveliest, Next after her own self, in all the court. And Enid loved the Queen, and with true heart Adored her, as the stateliest and the best And loveliest of all women upon earth. And seeing them so tender and so close, Long in their common love rejoiced Geraint. But when a rumour rose about the Queen, Touching her guilty love for Lancelot,
Tho' yet there lived no proof, nor yet was heard The world's loud whisper breaking into storm, Not less Geraint believed it; and there fell A horror on him, lest his gentle wife,
« VorigeDoorgaan » |