Make broad thy shoulders to receive my weight, So saying, from the pavement he half rose, And would have spoken, but he found not words; But, as he walk'd, King Arthur panted hard, Like one that feels a nightmare on his bed When all the house is mute. So sigh'd the King, Muttering and murmuring at his ear, “Quick, quick! I fear it is too late, and I shall die." But the other swiftly strode from ridge to ridge, Clothed with his breath, and looking, as he walk'd, Larger than human on the frozen hills. He heard the deep behind him, and a cry Before. His own thought drove him like a goad. And barren chasms, and all to left and right And the long glories of the winter moon. Then saw they how there hove a dusky barge, Dark as a funeral scarf from stem to stern, Beneath them; and descending they were ware That all the decks were dense with stately forms, Black-stoled, black-hooded, like a dream-by these Three Queens with crowns of gold: and from them rose A cry that shiver'd to the tingling stars, Of lamentation, like a wind that shrills All night in a waste land, where no one comes, Then murmur'd Arthur, " Place me in the barge;" So to the barge they came. There those three Queens Put forth their hands, and took the King, and wept. But she, that rose the tallest of them all And fairest, laid his head upon her lap. And loos'd the shatter'd casque, and chafed his hands, High from the daïs-throne - were parch'd with dust; Mix'd with the knightly growth that fringed his lips. So like a shatter'd column lay the King: Then loudly cried the bold Sir Bedivere: And slowly answered Arthur from the barge : "The old order changeth, yielding place to new, And God fulfils himself in many ways, Lest one good custom should corrupt the world. I have lived my life, and that which I have done If thou shouldst never see my face again, Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer Than this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy voice For what are men better than sheep or goats If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer For so the whole round earth is every way Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow, So said he, and the barge with oar and sail Moved from the brink, like some full-breasted swan That, fluting a wild carol ere her death, Ruffles her pure cold plume, and takes the flood 1 GLAD TIDINGS WILLIAM WORDSWORTH To convert the heathen conquerors to Christianity, Pope Gregory I. sent Augustine to Britain (597). The missionaries landed at Thanet in Kent, where they were hospitably received by King Ethelbert. The procession of priests in white vestments, chanting the litany and bearing aloft a silver cross and a banner on which was painted the crucifixion, made a deep impression on the mind of the king. He gave Augustine permission to preach the word of God throughout Kent. Within the next hundred years all Britain was converted to Christianity. For ever hallowed be this morning fair, They come, and onward travel without dread, Chanting in barbarous ears a tuneful prayer,— Rich conquest waits them:- the tempestuous sea с |