'Ay."

Then Bedivere, the first of all his knights Knighted by Arthur at his crowning, spake

For bold in heart and act and word was he, Whenever slander breathed against the king

"Sir, there be many rumors on this head:

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,

hearts,

Call him baseborn, and since his ways are sweet,

And theirs are bestial, hold him less than

man:

child,

And gave him to Sir Anton, an old knight And ancient friend of Uther; and his wife Nursed the young prince, and rear'd him with her own;

Lot's wife, the Queen of Orkney, Bellicent,
Hath ever like a loyal sister cleaved
To Arthur, —buta son she had not borne.
And Uther cast upon her eyes of love :
But she, a stainless wife to Gorloïs,
So loathed the bright dishonor of his love,
That Gorloïs and King Uther went to war:
And overthrown was Gorloïs and slain.
Then Uther in his wrath and heat besieged
Ygerne within Tintagil, where her men,
Seeing the mighty swarm about their
walls,

Left her and fled, and Uther enter'd in,
And there was none to call to but himself.
So, compass'd by the power of the king,
Enforc'd she was to wed him in her tears,
And with a shameful swiftness; afterward,
Not many moons, King Uther died him-
self,

Moaning and wailing for an heir to rule After him, lest the realm should go to wrack.

And that same night, the night of the new year,

By reason of the bitterness and grief That vext his mother, all before his time Was Arthur born, and all as soon as born Deliver'd at a secret postern gate

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 Gorloïs he,
Or else the child of Anton, and no king,
Or else base born.' Yet Merlin thro' his
craft,

And while the people clamor'd for a king, Had Arthur crown'd; but after, the great lords

Banded, and so brake out in open war."

Then while the king debated with him

self

If Arthur were the child of shamefulness, Or born the son of Gorloïs, 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, Belli

cent;

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

Made feast for, saying, as they satat meat,

"A doubtful throne is ice on summer

seas

this king

So few his knights, however brave they be

Hath body enow to beat his foemen down?"

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

"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,

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 Gorloïs, 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 wish'd 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 seem'd, 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.

Shrunk like a fairy changeling lay the

Dropt to the cove, and watch'd 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,

Lash'd 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 follow'd calm, Free sky and stars: And this same child,' he said,

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

Till this were told.' And saying this the

seer

Went thro' the strait and dreadful pass

of death,

Not ever to be question'd any more
Save on the further side; but when I met

king;

The old order changeth, yielding place

THE brave Geraint, a knight of Arthur's court,

A tributary prince of Devon, one
Of that great order of the Table Round,
Had married 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

Geraint.

But when a rumor 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,

Notless Geraint believed it; and there fell A horror on him, lest his gentle wife, Thro' that great tenderness for Guinevere, Had suffer'd, or should suffer any taint In nature wherefore going to the king, He made this pretext, that his princedom lay

Close on the borders of a territory, Wherein were bandit earls, and caitiff knights,

Assassins, and all fliers from the hand Of Justice, and whatever loathes a law: And therefore, till the king himself should please

To cleanse this common sewer of all his realm,

He craved a fair permission to depart, And there defend his marches; and the king

Mused for a little on his plea, but, last, Allowing it, the Prince and Enid rode, And fifty knights rode with them, to the shores

Of Severn, and they past to their own land; Where, thinking, that if ever yet was wife True to her lord, mine shall be so to me, He compass'd her with sweet observances And worship, never leaving her, and grew Forgetful of his promise to the king, Forgetful of the falcon and the hunt, Forgetful of the tilt and tournament, Forgetful of his glory and his name, Forgetful of his princedom and its cares. And this forgetfulness was hateful to her. And by and by the people, when they met In twos and threes, or fuller companies, Began to scoff and jeer and babble of him As of a prince whose manhood was all gone, And molten down in mere uxoriousness. And this she gather'd from the people's eyes:

This too the woman who attired her head, To please her, dwelling on his boundless love,