That men are blinded by it - on one side, That rose from out the bosom of the lake,Īnd Arthur rowed across and took it - richīewildering heart and eye - the blade so bright Hath power to walk the waters like our Lord.īefore him at his crowning borne, the sword May shake the world, and when the surface rolls,

Take thou and strike! the time to cast away is yet far-off. She gave the King his huge cross-hilted sword, Of loyal vassals toiling for their liege.Ĭlothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful. With large, divine, and comfortable words,įrom eye to eye through all their Order flash When he spake and cheered his Table Round.Sir, there be many rumours on this head:įor there be those who hate him in their hearts,Ĭall him baseborn, and since his ways are sweet,Īnd theirs are bestial, hold him less than man:Īnd there be those who deem him more than man,.the sword that rose from out the bosom of the lake. Let chance what will, I trust thee to the death. Have power on this dark land to lighten it,Īnd power on this dead world to make it live.

Wholly, nor make myself in mine own realm Vext with waste dreams? for saving I be joinedĪnd cannot will my will, nor work my work One among many, though his face was bare. She saw him not, or marked not, if she saw, Stood by the castle walls to watch him pass īut since he neither wore on helm or shieldīut rode a simple knight among his knights,Īnd many of these in richer arms than he,

And Arthur yet had done no deed of arms,īut heard the call, and came: and Guinevere.

Were I joined with her, then might we live together as one life, and reigning with one will in everything have power on this dark land to lighten it, and power on this dead world to make it live. Wherein the beast was ever more and more,īut man was less and less, till Arthur came.

And so there grew great tracts of wilderness,.

Swarmed overseas, and harried what was left. The Coming of Arthur Many a petty king ere Arthur came ruled in this isle, and ever waging war each upon other, wasted all the land.Īnd still from time to time the heathen host In that fierce light which beats upon a throne, Wearing the white flower of a blameless life, Of winged ambitions, nor a vantage-groundįor pleasure but through all this tract of years

Not making his high place the lawless perch

How modest, kindly, all-accomplished, wise, Dedication Through all this tract of years wearing the white flower of a blameless life, before a thousand peering littlenesses, in that fierce light which beats upon a throne, and blackens every blot.

Tennyson arthurian poems