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Home  »  Parnassus  »  Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809–1892)

Ralph Waldo Emerson, comp. (1803–1882). Parnassus: An Anthology of Poetry. 1880.

The Crowning of Arthur

Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809–1892)

THERE came to Cameliard,

With Gawin and young Modred, her two sons,

Lot’s wife, the Queen of Orkney, Bellicent;

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

Made feast for, saying, as they sat at meat,

“A doubtful throne is ice on summer seas.

Ye come from Arthur’s court. Victor his men

Report him! Yea, but ye,—think ye this king,—

So many those that hate him, and so strong,

So few his knights, however brave they be,—

Hath body enow to hold his foemen down?”

“O King,” she cried, “and I will tell thee: few,

Few, but all brave, all of one mind with him;

For I was near him when the savage yells

Of Uther’s peerage died, and Arthur sat

Crowned on the dais, and his warriors cried,

‘Be thou the king, and we will work thy will

Who love thee.’ Then the King in low deep tones,

And simple words of great authority,

Bound them by so strait vows to his own self,

That when they rose, knighted from kneeling, some

Were pale as at the passing of a ghost,

Some flushed, and others dazed, as one who wakes

Half-blinded at the coming of a light.

“But when he spake and cheered his Table Round

With large, divine and comfortable words

Beyond my tongue to tell thee,—I beheld

From eye to eye through all their Order flash

A momentary likeness of the King:

And ere it left their faces, through the cross

And those around it and the Crucified,

Down from the casement over Arthur, smote

Flame-color, vert and azure, in three rays,

One falling upon each of three fair queens,

Who stood in silence near his throne, the friends

Of Arthur, gazing on him, tall, with bright

Sweet faces, who will help him at his need.

“And there I saw mage Merlin, whose vast wit

And hundred winters are but as the hands

Of loyal vassals toiling for their liege.

“And near him stood the Lady of the Lake,

Who knows a subtler magic than his own,—

Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful.

She gave the King his huge cross-hilted sword,

Whereby to drive the heathen out: a mist

Of incense curled about her, and her face

Well-nigh was hidden in the minster gloom;

But there was heard among the holy hymns

A voice as of the waters, for she dwells

Down in a deep, calm, whatsoever storms

May shake the world, and when the surface rolls,

Hath power to walk the waters like our Lord.

“There likewise I beheld Excalibur

Before him at his crowning borne, the sword

That rose from out the bosom of the lake,

And Arthur rowed across and took it,—rich

With jewels, elfin Urim, on the hilt,

Bewildering heart and eye,—the blade so bright

That men are blinded by it;—on one side,

Graven in the oldest tongue of all this world,

‘Take me;’ but turn the blade and ye shall see,

And written in the speech ye speak yourself,

‘Cast me away!’ And sad was Arthur’s face

Taking it, but old Merlin counselled him,

‘Take thou and strike! the time to cast away

Is yet far-off.’ So this great brand the king

Took, and by this will beat his foemen down.”