And champions out of mediæval lore
Looking at large for ladies in distress
Round storied Lyonnesse.
I was a trovatore (with guitar);
Venezia's airy domes above me shone;
I heard Alhambra's fountains, faint and far;
I broke the Kaliph's line at Carcassonne;
All kinds of lost chords latent in my withers
Woke at the name of Smithers.
Ah, if in Avalon's vale I may not rest