He rose, and round him drew his ermined gown,34
Pass'd from his chamber, wound the turret stair,
And from his castle's steep embattled crown
Bared his hot forehead to the fresh'ning air.
How Silence, like a god's tranquillity,
Fill'd with delighted peace the conscious sky!
Broad, luminous, serene, the sovereign moon35
Shone o'er the roofs below, the lands afar—
The vale so joyous with the mirth at noon;
The pastures virgin of the lust of war;
And the still river shining as it flows,
Calm as a soul on which the heavens repose.
"And must these pass from me and mine away?"36
Murmur'd the monarch; "Must the mountain home
Of those whose fathers, in a ruder day,
With naked bosoms rush'd on shrinking Rome,
Yield this last refuge from the ruthless wave,
And what was Britain be the Saxon's slave?
"Why hymn our harps high music in our hall?37
Doom'd is the tree whose fruit was noble deeds—
Where the axe spared the thunder-bolt must fall,
And the wind scatter as it list the seeds!
Fate breathes, and kingdoms wither at the breath;
But kings are deathless, kingly if their death!"
He ceased, and look'd, with a defying eye,38
Where the dark forest clothed the mount with awe
Gazed, and then proudly turn'd;—when lo, hard by,
From a lone turret in his keep, he saw
Through the horn casement, a clear steadfast light,
Lending meek tribute to the orbs of night.
And far, and far, I ween, that little ray39
Sent its pure streamlet through the world of air:
The wanderer oft, benighted on his way,
Saw it, and paused in superstitious prayer;
For well he knew the beacon and the tower,
And the great Master of the spells of power.
There He, who yet in Fable's deathless page40
Reigns, compass'd with the ring of pleasing dread,
Which the true wizard, whether bard or sage,
Draws round him living, and commands when dead—
The solemn Merlin—from the midnight won
The hosts that bow'd to starry Solomon.
Not fear that light on Arthur's breast bestow'd,41
As with a father's smile it met his gaze;
It cheer'd, it soothed, it warm'd him while it glow'd;
Brought back the memory of young hopeful days,
When the child stood by the great prophet's knee,
And drank high thoughts to strengthen years to be.
As with a tender chiding, the calm light42
Seem'd to reproach him for secreted care,
Seem'd to ask back the old familiar right
Of lore to counsel, or of love to share;
The prompt heart answers to the voiceless call,
And the step quickens o'er the winding wall.
Before that tower precipitously sink43
The walls, down-shelving to the castle base;
A slender drawbridge, swung from brink to brink,
Alone gives fearful access to the place;
Now, from that tower, the chains the drawbridge raise,
And leave the gulf all pathless to the gaze.