down Prick'd thro' the mist; at times the great

need.

Then those with Gareth for so long a

space

Stared at the figures, that at last it seem'd

The dragon-boughts and elvish emblemings

Began to move, seethe, twine and curl : they call'd

To Gareth, "Lord, the gateway is alive."

And Gareth likewise on them fixt his

eyes

So long, that ev'n to him they seem'd to

move.

Out of the city a blast of music peal'd. Back from the gate started the three, to whom

From out thereunder came an ancient

man,

Long-bearded, saying, "Who be ye, my sons?"

Then Gareth, "We be tillers of the

soil,

Who leaving share in furrow come to see The glories of our King: but these, my

men,

(Your city moved so weirdly in the mist,) Doubt if the King be King at all, or

come

From fairyland; and whether this be built

By magic, and by fairy Kings and Queens;
Or whether there be any city at all,
Or all a vision and this music now
Hath scared them both, but tell thou
these the truth."

Then that old Seer made answer play. ing on him

And saying, "Son, I have seen the good ship sail

Keel upward and mast downward in the heavens,

And solid turrets topsy-turvy in air : And here is truth; but an it please thee

not,

Take thou the truth as thou hast told it

me.

For truly, as thou sayest, a Fairy King And Fairy Queens have built the city,

son;

cleft

Toward the sunrise, each with harp in

hand,

And built it to the music of their harps. And as thou sayest it is enchanted, son, For there is nothing in it as it seems Saving the King; tho' some there be that hold

The King a shadow, and the city real : Yet take thou heed of him, for, so thou pass

Beneath this archway, then wilt thou become

A thrall to his enchantments, for the King

Will bind thee by such vows, as is a shame

A man should not be bound by, yet the which

No man can keep; but, so thou dread to

swear,

Pass not beneath this gateway, but abide
Without, among the cattle of the field.
For, an ye heard a music, like enow
They are building still, seeing the city is
built

To music, therefore never built at all,
And therefore built forever."

Gareth spake Anger'd, "Old Master, reverence thine own beard

That looks as white as utter truth, and

seems

Wellnigh as long as thou art statured tall! Why mockest thou the stranger that hath been

To thee fair-spoken?"

But the Seer replied, "Know ye not then the Riddling of the Bards?

'Confusion, and illusion, and relation, Elusion, and occasion, and evasion'? I mock thee not but as thou mockest me, And all that see thee, for thou art not who Thou seemest, but I know thee who thou art.

And now thou goest up to mock the King,

Who cannot brook the shadow of any lie."

Unmockingly the mocker ending here Turn'd to the right, and past along the plain;

stone;

Which Merlin's hand, the Mage at Arthur's court,

Knowing all arts, had touch'd, and everywhere

At Arthur's ordinance, tipt with lessening peak

And pinnacle, and had made it spire to heaven.

And ever and anon a knight would pass Outward, or inward to the hall : his arms Clash'd; and the sound was good to Gareth's ear.

And out of bower and casement shyly glanced

Eyes of pure women, wholesome stars of love;

And all about a healthful people stept
As in the presence of a gracious king.

Then came a widow crying to the King, "A boon, Sir King! Thy father, Uther, reft

From my dead lord a field with violence : For howsoe'er at first he proffer'd gold, Yet, for the field was pleasant in our

eyes,

We yielded not; and then he reft us of it

Perforce, and left us neither gold nor field."

Said Arthur, "Whether would ye? gold or field?"

To whom the woman weeping, "Nay, my lord,

The field was pleasant in my husband's eye."

And Arthur, "Have thy pleasant field again,

And thrice the gold for Uther's use thereof, According to the years. No boon is here, But justice, so thy say be proven true. Accursed, who from the wrongs his father did

Would shape himself a right!"

And while she past, Came yet another widow crying to him, "A boon, Sir King! Thine enemy, King, am I.

With thine own hand thou slewest my dear lord,

A knight of Uther, in the Barons' war, When Lot and many another rose and fought

Against thee, saying thou wert basely

Then came Sir Kay, the seneschal, and cried,

"A boon, Sir King! ev'n that thou grant her none,

This railer, that hath mock'd thee in full hall

None; or the wholesome boon of gyve and gag."

But Arthur, "We sit, King, to help the wrong'd

Thro' all our realm. The woman loves her lord.

Peace to thee, woman, with thy loves and hates !

The kings of old had doom'd thee to the flames,

Aurelius Emrys would have scourged thee dead,

And Uther slit thy tongue : but get thee hence

Lest that rough humor of the kings of old Return upon me! Thou that art her kin, Go likewise; lay him low and slay him not,

But bring him here, that I may judge the right,

According to the justice of the King: Then, be he guilty, by that deathless King

Who lived and died for men, the man shall die."

Then came in hall the messenger of

Mark,

A name of evil savor in the land,
The Cornish king. In either hand he

bore

What dazzled all, and shone far-off as shines

A field of charlock in the sudden sun Between two showers, a cloth of palest gold,

Which down he laid before the throne, and knelt,

Delivering, that his Lord, the vassal king,

Was ev'n upon his way to Camelot;
For having heard that Arthur of his grace
Had made his goodly cousin, Tristram,
knight,

And, for himself was of the greater state,