Bathed in a world of blood, his limbs lay tense
A moment, then grew limp, relaxed in death.
And bending o'er him, from the brow beneath,
The King unlaced the helm. When dark, uncasqued,
The knight's slow eyelids opened, Arthur asked:
"Say, ere thou diest, whence and who thou art!
What king, what court is thine? And from what part
Of Britain dost thou come? Speak!—for, methinks,
I have beheld thee—where? Some memory links
Me strangely with thy face, thy eyes ... thou art—