But of the magic mirror nought remained
Save one small fragment on the mantelpiece,
Reflecting her changed features night and morn.
But now the inward yearnings of Sir Tray
Grew pressing, and in hollow rumblings spake,
As in tempestuous nights the Northern seas
Within their cavern cliffs reverberate.
This touched her: “I have marked of yore,” she said,
“When on my palfry I have paced along
The streets of Camelot, while many a knight