The bowman’s arrows darken all the sun.
The battle-axes clamor on the shields,
As on some morn the loud woodcutter’s din
By some bright hillside. Knight encounters knight
In serried thunders. All the kingdom’s turned
To one mad tournament of blood and flame.
(The battle is heard moving nearer. Both rush out.)
Another part of the field. Enter Arthur surrounded by knights.
Arthur. Now where is he, that monster, foul, deformed,