"No thrilling note of melancholy wail;28
Ne'er pour'd the thrush more musical delight
Through noon-day laurels, than that nightingale
In the lone forest to the ear of Night—
Ev'n as the light web by Arachne spun,
From bough to bough suspended in the sun,
"Ensnares the heedless insect,—so, methought29
Midway in air my soul arrested hung
In the melodious meshes; never aught
To mortal lute was so divinely sung!
Surely, O prophet, these the sound and sign,
Which make the lot, the search determines mine,"
"O self-deceit of man!" the soothsayer sigh'd,30
"The worm but lent its funeral torch the ray;
The night-bird's joy but hail'd the fatal guide,
In the bright glimmer, to its thoughtless prey.
And thou, bold-eyed one—in the forest, what
Met thy firm footstep?"—Out spoke Lancelot—
"I pierced the forest till a pool I reach'd,31
Ne'er mark'd before—a dark yet lucid wave;
High from a blasted oak the night-owl screech'd,
An otter crept from out its water-cave,
The owl grew silent when it heard my tread—
The otter mark'd my shadow, and it fled.
"This all I saw, and all I heard."—"Rejoice"32
The enchanter cried, "for thee the omens smile;
On thee propitious Fate hath fix'd the choice;
And thou the comrade in the glorious toil.
In death the poet only music heard;
But death gave way when life's firm soldier stirr'd.
"Forth ride, a dauntless champion, with the morn;33
But let the night the champion nerve with prayer;
Higher and higher from the heron borne,
Wheels thy brave falcon to the heavenliest air,
Poises his wings, far towering o'er the foe,
And hangs aloft, before he swoops below;
"Man let the falcon teach thee!—Now, from land34
To land thy guide, receive this chrystal ring;
See, in the chrystal moves a fairy hand,
Still, where it moveth, moves the wandering King—
Or east, or north, or south, or west, where'er
Points the sure hand, thy onward path be there!
"Thine hour comes soon, young Gawaine! to the port35
The light heart boundeth o'er the stormiest wave;
And thou, fair favourite[4] in the Fairy court,
To whom its King a realm in fancy gave;
Fear not from glory exiled long to be,
What toil to others, Nature brings to thee."
Thus with kind word, well chosen, unto each36
Spoke the benign enchanter; and the twain,
Less favour'd, heart and comfort from his speech
Hopeful conceived; the prophet up the plain,
Gathering weird simples, pass'd—to Carduel they;
And song escapes to Arthur's lonely way.
On towards the ocean-shore (for thus the seer37
Enjoin'd) the royal knight, deep musing, rode;
Winding green margins, till more near and near
Unto the main the exulting river flow'd.
Here too a guide, when reach'd the mightier wave,
The heedful promise of the prophet gave.