Arthur, Arthur!
Lynned
Yet
Not there he died, though hurt to death: in his arms
Sir Bedivere upbore him to a mere
Deep in the hills. There the King bade him ride
To Amesbury—ride swift and tell the Queen,
How, ere he died, he had sent words of love,
Of old, long love to Launcelot overseas;
With his life’s blood his secret heart gushed out