"Thy smile replies! Know, while we speak, the King22
Is on the march; each moment that delays
The foeman, speeds the conqueror on its wing;
If, till the hour is ripe, the Saxon stays
His rush, then idly wastes it on our wall,
Not ours the homes that burn, the shrines that fall!
"But that delay vouchsafed not—comes in vain23
The bright achiever of enchanted powers;
He comes a king,—no people but the slain,
And round his throne will crash his blazing towers.
This is not all; for him, the morn is rife
With one dire curse that threatens more than life;—
"A curse, once launch'd, which withers every leaf24
In victory's crown, chills youth itself to age!
Here magic fails—for over love and grief
There is no glamour in the brazen page
Born of the mind, o'er mind extends mine art;—
Beyond its circle beats the human heart!
"Delay the hour—save Carduel for thy king;25
Avert the curse; from misery save thy brother!"
"Thrice welcome death," cried Lancelot, "could it bring
The bliss to bless mine Arthur! As the mother
Lives in her child, the planet in the sky,
Thought in the soul, in Arthur so live I."
"Prepare," the Seer replied, "be firm!—and yield26
The maid thou lovest to her Saxon Sire."
Like a man lightning-stricken, Lancelot reel'd,
And as if blinded by the intolerant fire,
Cover'd his face with his convulsive hand,
And groan'd aloud, "What woe dost thou demand?
"Yield her! and wherefore? Cruel as thou art!27
Can Cymri's king or Carduel's destiny
Need the lone offering of a loving heart,
Nothing to kings and states, but all to me?"
"Son," said the Prophet, "can the human eye
Trace by what wave light quivers from the sky;
"Explore some thought whose utterance shakes the earth28
Along the airy galleries of the brain;
Or say, can human wisdom test the worth
Of the least link in Fate's harmonious chain?
All doubt is cowardice—all trust is brave—
Doubt, and desert thy king;—believe and save."
Then Lancelot fix'd his keen eyes on the sage,29
And said, "Am I the sacrifice or she?
Risks she no danger from the heathen's rage,
She, the new Christian?"—"Danger more with thee!
Can blazing roofs and trampled altars yield
A shelter surer than her father's shield?
"If mortal schemes may foil the threatening hour,30
Thy heart's reward shall crown thine honour's test;
And the same fates that crush the heathen power
Restore the Christian to the conqueror's breast;
Yea, the same lights that gild the nuptial shrine
Of Arthur, shed a beam as bless'd on thine!"
"I trust and I submit," said Lancelot,31
With pale firm lip. "Go thou—I dare not—I!
Say, if I yield, that I abandon not!
Her form may leave a desert to my eye,
But here—but here!"—No more his lips could say,
He smote his bleeding heart, and went his way!