"The silver Shield in which the infant sleep84
Of Thor was cradled,—now the jealous care
Of the fierce dwarf whose home is on the deep,
Where drifting ice-rocks clash in lifeless air;
And War's pale Sisters smile to see the shock
Stir the still curtains round the couch of Lok.
"And last of all—before the Iron Gate85
Which opes its entrance at the faintest breath,
But hath no egress; where remorseless Fate
Sits, weaving life, within the porch of Death;
Earth's childlike guide shall wait thee in the gloom,
With golden locks, and looks that light the tomb.
"Achieve the sword, the shield, the virgin guide,86
And in those gifts appease the Powers of wrath;
Be danger braved, and be delight defied,
From grief take wisdom, and from wisdom faith;—
And though dark wings hang o'er these threaten'd halls,
Though war's red surge break thundering round thy walls,
"Though, in the rear of time, these prophet eyes87
See to thy sons, thy Cymrians, many a woe;
Yet from thy loins a race of kings shall rise,
Whose throne shall shadow all the seas that flow;
Whose empire, broader than the Cæsar won,
Shall clasp a realm where never sets the sun:
"And thou, thyself, shalt live from age to age,88
A thought of beauty and a type of fame;—
Not the faint memory of some mouldering page,
But by the hearths of men a household name:
Theme to all song, and marvel to all youth—
Beloved as Fable, yet believed as Truth.
"But if thou fail—thrice woe!" Up sprang the King:89
"Let the woe fall on feeble kings who fail
Their country's need! When eagles spread the wing,
They face the sun, not tremble at the gale:
And, if ordain'd heaven's mission to perform,
They bear the thunder where they cleave the storm."
Ere yet the shadows from the castle's base90
Show'd lapsing noon—in Carduel's council-hall,
To the high princes of the Dragon race,
The mighty Prophet, whom the awe of all
As Fate's unerring oracle adored,—
Told the self exile of the parted lord;
For his throne's safety and his country's weal91
On high emprise to distant regions bound;
The cause must wisdom for success conceal;
For each sage counsel is, as fate, profound:
And none may trace the travail in the seed
Till the blade burst to glory in the deed.
Few were the orders, as wise orders are,92
For the upholding of the chiefless throne;
To strengthen peace and yet prepare for war;
Lest the fierce Saxon (Arthur's absence known)
Loose death's pale charger from the broken rein,
To its grim pastures on the bloody plain.
Leave we the startled Princes in the hall;93
Leave we the wondering babblers in the mart;
The grief, the guess, the hope, the doubt, and all
That stir a nation to its inmost heart,
When some portentous Chance, unseen till then,
Strides in the circles of unthinking men.[11]