Between true guides and tricksters false as loud.
The blameless King his headlong knights upbraided
In kindly grief for "following foolish fires,"
False flames that in mere dun marsh-darkness faded,
Leaving lost votaries to its mists and mires;
And here's an ignis fatuus, fired by folly,
And moved by violence as fierce as blind;
The gulf before's a bourne most melancholy,
And what of those fast following behind?
Well-meaning hearts, maybe, all expectation