For many a petty king ere Arthur came Ruled in this isle, and ever waging war Each upon other, wasted all the land; And still from time to time the heathen host Swarmed overseas, and harried what was left.

And so there grew great tracts of wilderness, Wherein the beast was ever more and more, But man was less and less, till Arthur came.

And Arthur yet had done no deed of arms, But heard the call, and came: and Guinevere Stood by the castle walls to watch him pass; But since he neither wore on helm or shield The golden symbol of his kinglihood, But rode a simple knight among his knights, And many of these in richer arms than he, She saw him not, or marked not, if she saw, One among many, though his face was bare.

Man's word is God in man: Let chance what will, I trust thee to the death.

Sir, there be many rumours on this head: For there be those who hate him in their hearts, Call him baseborn, and since his ways are sweet, And theirs are bestial, hold him less than man: And there be those who deem him more than man, And dream he dropt from heaven

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.

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

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.