And at those holy feet the Saxon fell190
Sobbing, "Oh, stay me not! Oh, rather free
These steps that fly to save his Carduel!
Throne, altars, life—his life! In me, in me,
To these strange shrines, thy saints in mercy bring
Crida's lost Child!—Way, way to save thy king!"
The sister listen'd; gladness, awe, amaze,191
Fused in that lambent atmosphere of soul,
Faith in the wise All-Good!—so melt the rays
Of varying Iris in the lucid whole
Of light;—"Thy people still to Thee are dear,
O Lord," she murmur'd, "and Thy hand is here!"
"Yes," cried the suppliant, "if my loss deplored,192
My fate unguess'd—misled and arm'd my sire;
When to his heart his child shall be restored,
Sure, war itself will in the cause expire!
Ruth come with joy,—and in that happy hour
Hate drop the steel, and Love alone have power?"
Then the nun took the Saxon to her breast,193
Round the bow'd neck she hung her sainted cross,
And said, "Go forth—O beautiful and blest!
And if my king rebuke me for thy loss,
Be my reply the gain that loss bestow'd,—
Hearths for his people, altars for his God!"
She ceased;—on secret valves revolv'd the door;194
On the calm hill-top breath'd the dawning air;
One moment paused the steps of Hope, and o'er
The war's vast slumber look'd the Soul of Prayer.
So halts the bird that from the cage hath flown;—
A light bough rustled, and the Dove was gone.
BOOK XII.
ARGUMENT.
Preliminary Stanzas—Scene returns to Carduel—a day has passed since the retreat of the Saxons into their encampment—The Cymrians take advantage of the enemy's inactivity, to introduce supplies into the famished city—Watch all that day, and far into the following night, is kept round the corpse of Caradoc—Before dawn, the burial takes place—The Prophet by the grave of the Bard—Merlin's address to the Cymrians, whom he dismisses to the walls, in announcing the renewed assault of the Saxons—Merlin then demands a sacrifice from Lancelot—gives commissions to the two sons of Faul the Aleman, and takes Faul himself (to whom an especial charge is destined) to the city—The scene changes to the Temple Fortress of the Saxons—The superstitious panic of the heathen hosts at their late defeat—The magic divinations of the Runic priests—The magnetic trance of the chosen Soothsayer—The Oracle he utters—He demands the blood of a Christian maid—The pause of the priests and the pagan king—The abrupt entrance of Genevieve—Crida's joy—The priests demand the Victim—Genevieve's Christian faith is evinced by the Cross which the Nun had hung round her neck—Crida's reply to the priests—They dismiss one of their number to inflame the army, and so insure the sacrifice—The priests lead the Victim to the Altar, and begin their hymn, as the Soothsayer wakes from his trance—The interruption and the compact—Crida goes from the Temple to the summit of the tower without—The invading march of the Saxon troops under Harold described—The light from the Dragon Keep—The Saxons scale the walls, and disappear within the town—The irruption of flames from the fleet—The dismay of that part of the army that had remained in the camp—The flames are seen by the rest of the heathen army in the streets of Carduel—The approach of the Northmen under Gawaine—The light on the Dragon Keep changes its hue into blood-red, and the Prophet appears on the height of the tower—The retreat of the Saxons from the city—The joy of the Chief Priest—The time demanded by the compact has expired—He summons Crida to complete the sacrifice—Crida's answer—The Priest rushes back into the Temple—The offering is bound to the Altar—Faul! the gleam of the enchanted glaive—The appearance of Arthur—The War takes its last stand within the heathen temple—Crida and the Teuton kings—Arthur meets Crida hand to hand—Meanwhile Harold saves the Gonfanon, and follows the bands under his lead to the river-side—He addresses them, re-forms their ranks, and leads them to the brow of the hill—His embassy to Arthur—The various groups in the heathen temple described—Harold's speech—Arthur's reply—Merlin's prophetic address to the chiefs of the two races—The End.
Flow on, flow on, fair Fable's happy stream,1
Vocal for aye with Eld's first music-chaunt,
Where, mirror'd far adown the chrystal, gleam
The golden domes of Carduel and Romaunt;
Still one last look on knighthood's peerless ring,
On moonèd Dream-land and the Dragon King!—