And that was Arthur.”
Now in the height of glory, in the fulfilment of duty, in the prime of manhood, such sorrows have overtaken him, as must needs whisper their prophetic warning that his task is done, and it is time to go. Where, he sees not, cares not. True to himself and his knighthood, he is ready now, as always, to follow the path of honour, wherever it may lead, and meet unflinching
“Death, or I know not what mysterious doom.”
Arthur, dethroned, ruined, heart-broken, mortally wounded, and unhorsed, will be no less Arthur than when on Badon Hill he stood
“High on a heap of slain, from spur to plume,
Red as the rising sun with heathen blood,”
and shouted victory with a great voice in the culminating triumph of his glory.
“‘We two may meet before high God.’”
Bones and I.]