Nathless, no pause, save such as needful rest61
Demands, delays him in the friendly land.
No tidings here of Arthur gain'd, his breast
Springs to the goal of the quick-moving hand,
Howbeit not barren of adventurous days,
Sweet danger found him in the devious ways.
What foes encounter'd, or what damsels freed—62
What demon spells in lonely forests braving,
Leave we to songs yet vocal to the reed
On ev'ry bank, beloved by poets, waving;
Our task unborrow'd from the muse of old,
Takes but the tale by nobler bards untold.
Now as he journeys, frequent more and more63
The traces of the steps he tracks are found;
Fame, like a light, shines broadening on before
His path, and cleaves the shadows on the ground;
High deeds and gentle, bruited near and far,
Show where that soul went flashing as a star.
At length he gains the Ausonian Alpine walls;64
Here, castle, convent, town, and hamlet fade;
Lone, through the rolling mists, the hoof-tread falls;
Lone, earth's mute giants loom amidst the shade:
Yet still, as sure of hope, he tracks the king,
Up steep, through gorge, where guides the crystal ring.
One day—along by gloomy chasms his course—65
He saw before him indistinctly pass
Through the dun fogs, what seem'd a phantom horse,
Like that which oft, amidst the dank morass,
Bestrid by goblin-meteor, starts the eye—
So fleshless flitting—wan and shadowy.
By a bare rock it paused, and feebly neigh'd.66
As the good knight, descending, seized the rein;
Dew-rusted mail the shrunken front array'd;
The rich selle rotted with the moulder-stain;
And on the selle were slung helm, axe, and mace;
And the great lance lay careless near the place.
Then first the seeker's stricken spirit fell;67
Too well that helmet, with its dragon crest,
Speaks of the mighty owner; and too well
That steed, so oft by snowy hands carest,
When bright-eyed Beauty from the balcon bent
To crown the victor-lord of tournament.
Near and afar he searched—he called in vain,68
By crag and combe, nought answering, and nought seen;
Return'd, the charger long refused the rein,
Clinging, poor slave, where last its lord had been.
At length the slow, reluctant hoofs obey'd
The soothing words; so went they through the shade:
Following the gorge that wound the Alpine wall,69
Like the huge fosse of some Cyclopean town,
(While roaring round, invisible cataracts fall);
On the black rocks twilight comes ghostly down,
And deep and deeper still the windings go,
And dark and darker as to worlds below.
Night halts the course, resumed at earliest day,70
Through day pursued, till the last sunbeams fell
On a broad mere whose margin closed the way.
Hark! o'er the waters swung the holy bell
From a grey convent on the rising ground,
Amidst the subject hamlet stretch'd around.