I know that thou art skilful in thine age,
And subtle in all knowledges of lore,
But there lies in recesses of the heart,
That hath known bitter sorrow such as mine,
A deeper wisdom intuition breeds,
That thou hast never sounded in thy lore.
Merlin. Hast thou ever seen this presence whereof thou speakest?
Mordred. Yea, only as a look that haunteth faces.
Merlin. Faces?
Mordred. I never saw it in my poor dog’s face,