So cheer'd, 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 fix'd 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 th' 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 approach'd 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 th' 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 appear'd,
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 turn'd to sorrow;
This is the wish'd-for Bride, the Maid
Of Egypt, from a rock convey'd

Where she by shipwreck had been thrown;
Ill sight! but grief may vanish ere the morrow."

"Though vast thy power, thy words are weak,"
Exclaim'd 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 hover'd:

A Lady added to my Court,

So fair, of such divine report
And worship, seem'd a recompense

For fifty kingdoms by my sword recover❜d.

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 ordain'd 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 favour'd One, the Flower may bloom

Once more: but, if unchangeable 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."

66

'anon,

"So be it," said the King;
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.

Abash'd, Sir Dinas turn'd away;

Even for Sir Percival was no disclosure;

Though he, devoutest of all Champions, ere
He reach'd that ebon car, the bier

Whereon diffused like snow the Damsel lay,

Full thrice had cross'd 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 lengthen'd 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, mail'd
For tournament, his beaver vail'd,'

And softly touch'd; but to his princely cheer
And high expectancy no sign was granted.

Next, disencumber'd 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 woo'd
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 look'd passing glad

When his touch fail'd. — 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 th' Egyptian Lady.

Now, while his bright-hair'd front he bow'd,

And stood, far-kenn'd by mantle furr'd with ermine,

As o'er th' insensate Body hung

Th' 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 approach'd of strength was shorn,

Though King or Knight the most renown'd in story.

He touch'd with hesitating hand,

And, lo! those Birds, far-famed through Love's dominions, The Swans, in triumph clap their wings; .

9 That is, drew his beaver down. The beaver was a part of the helmet that covered the face, but hung on hinges at the ears, so that it could at pleasure be set up over the forehead or drawn down over the face.- Vailed is lowered. Both words are often so used by Shakespeare.

And their necks play, involved in rings,
Like sinless snakes in Eden's happy land;

[pinions. "Mine is she," cried the Knight;-again they clapp'd their

"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 dawn'd upon the Damsel's check;
And her lips, quickening with uncertain red,
Seem'd from each other a faint warmth to borrow.

Deep was the awe, the rapture high,

Of love embolden'd, hope with dread entwining,
When to the mouth relenting Death
Allow'd 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 watch'd 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 delay'd;
And sage tradition still rehearses
The pomp, the glory of that hour
When toward the altar from her bower
King Arthur led th' Egyptian Maid,

And Angels caroll'd these far-echo'd 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.