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The name of Britain trebly greatThough every channel of the State

Each little sound and sight. With what Should fill and choke with golden sand

dull pain

Compassed, how eagerly I sought to strike

Into that wondrous track of dreams

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Yet waft me from the harbor-mouth, 25
Wild wind! I seek a warmer sky,

And I will see before I die
The palms and temples of the South.

MORTE D'ARTHUR

So all day long the noise of battle rolled Among the mountains by the winter sea; Until King Arthur's table, man by man, Had fallen in Lyonnesse about their Lord,

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121

"Ah, miserable and unkind, untrue, Unknightly, traitor-hearted! Woe is me! Authority forgets a dying king, Laid widowed of the power in his eye That bowed the will. I see thee what thou art,

For thou, the latest-left of all my knights,
In whom should meet the offices of all, 125
Thou wouldst betray me for the precious
hilt;

Either from lust of gold, or like a girl
Valuing the giddy pleasure of the eyes.
Yet, for a man may fail in duty twice,
And the third time may prosper, get thee
hence;

130

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Then spoke King Arthur, breathing Speak out; what is it thou hast heard, or

heavily:

I loved.

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"Sir King, I closed mine eyelids, lest the gems

Should blind my purpose, for I never saw, Nor shall see, here or elsewhere, till I die, Not though I live three lives of mortal men,

So great a miracle as yonder hilt.

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Before. His own thought drove him, like a goad. 185

Dry clashed his harness in the icy caves And barren chasms, and all to left and right

The bare black cliff clanged round him, as he based

Then with both hands I flung him, wheel- His feet on juts of slippery crag that rang ing him; Sharp-smitten with the dint of armèd

But when I looked again, behold an arm, Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonder

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Three times, and drew him under in the Dark as a funeral scarf from stem to stern, mere." Beneath them; and descending they were

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And rising bore him through the place of And fairest, laid his head upon her lap, tombs.

175

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And loosed the shattered casque, and chafed his hands,

And called him by his name, complaining loud,

210

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But now farewell. I am going a long way
With these thou seest-if indeed I go-
For all my mind is clouded with a doubt-
To the island-valley of Avilion;
Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow,
Nor ever wind blows loudly, but it lies 261
Deep-meadowed, happy, fair with orchard-
lawns

And bowery hollows crowned with summer sea,

Where I will heal me of my grievous wound."

So said he, and the barge with oar and sail 265

Such times have been not since the light Moved from the brink, like some fullthat led

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breasted swan

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