Which Camel over-heard: but what doth she respect
Their taunts, her proper course that loosly doth neglect?
As frantic, ever since her British Arthur’s blood,
By Mordred’s murtherous hand was mingled with her flood.
For as that river best might boast that conqueror’s breath,
So sadly she bemoans his too untimely death;
Who after twelve proud fields against the Saxon fought,
Yet back unto her banks by fate was lastly brought:
As though no other place on Britain’s spacious earth
Were worthy of his end, but where he had his birth: