Silver sails all out of the west

Under the silver moon:

Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep.

—Ibid.

Blow trumpet, for the world is white with May;

Blow trumpet, the long night hath roll’d away!

Blow thro’ the living world—“Let the King reign.”

Shall Rome or Heathen rule in Arthur’s realm?

Flash brand and lance, fall battleaxe upon helm,