And blazoned banners, shields, and many a spear
Of Uther, waved an incorporeal fear:
And forms of Arthur rose and Guenevere,
Of Tristram and of Isoud and of Mark,
And many others; glimmering in the dark
Of Merlin's mind, they rose and glared and then,—
The instant's fostered phantoms,—passed again.
Then all around me seemed a rippling stir
Of silken something,—wilier, lovelier
Than that witch-mothered beauty, Viviane,—