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And so fill up the gap where force might | And crown'd with fleshless laughter fail some ten steps ·

With skill and fineness. Instant were In the half-light

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Then for a space, and under cloud that grew

To thunder-gloom palling all stars, they rode

In converse till she made her palfry halt, Lifted an arm, and softly whisper'd, "There.'

And all the three were silent seeing, pitch'd

Beside the Castle Perilous on flat field,
A huge pavilion like a mountain peak
Sunder the glooming crimson on the
marge,

Black, with black banner, and a long black horn

Beside it hanging; which Sir Gareth graspt,

And so, before the two could hinder him, Sent all his heart and breath thro' all the horn.

Echo'd the walls; a light twinkled; anon Came lights and lights, and once again he blew ;

Whereon were hollow tramplings up and down

And muffled voices heard, and shadows past;

Till high above him, circled with her maids,

The Lady Lyonors at a window stood, Beautiful among lights, and waving to

him White hands, and courtesy; but when the Prince

Three times had blown

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after long

The huge pavilion slowly yielded up, Thro' those black foldings, that which housed therein.

High on a nightblack horse, in night

black arms, With white breast-bone, and barren ribs of Death,

advanced

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thro' the dim dawn

The monster, and then paused, and spake no word.

But Gareth spake and all indignantly, "Fool, for thou hast, men say, the strength of ten,

Canst thou not trust the limbs thy God hath given,

But must, to make the terror of thee more,

Trick thyself out in ghastly imageries Of that which Life hath done with, and the clod,

Less dull than thou, will hide with mantling flowers As if for pity?" But he spake no word; Which set the horror higher: a maiden swoon'd;

The Lady Lyonors wrung her hands and wept,

As doom'd to be the bride of Night and Death;

Sir Gareth's head prickled beneath his helm ;

And ev'n Sir Lancelot thro' his warm

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That made us rulers? this, indeed, her | Touch'd by the adulterous finger of a time That hover'd between war and wanton

voice

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ness,

And crownings and dethronements: take withal

Thy poet's blessing, and his trust that Heaven

Will blow the tempest in the distance back From thine and ours: for some are scared, who mark,

Or wisely or unwisely, signs of storm, Waverings of every vane with every wind, And wordy trucklings to the transient hour,

And fierce or careless looseners of the faith,

And Softness breeding scorn of simple life,

Or Cowardice, the child of lust for gold, Or Labor, with a groan and not a voice, Or Art, with poisonous honey stol'n from France,

And that which knows, but careful for itself,

And that which knows not, ruling that which knows

To its own harm: the goal of this great world Lies beyond sight: yet.

grown

if our slowly

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Fair Empires branching, both, in lusty But hearts that change not, love that

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Since English Harold gave its throne a Between your peoples truth and manful

wife,

Alexandrovna !

peace,

Alfred Alexandrovna !

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Two dead men have I known

In courtesy like to thee:

Two dead men have I loved

With a love that ever will be:

"I am the voice of the Peak,
I roar and rave for I fall.

"A thousand voices go

To North, South, East, and West;
They leave the heights and are troubled,
And moan and sink to their rest.

"The fields are fair beside them,
The chestnut towers in his bloom;
But they they feel the desire of the
deep-

Fall, and follow their doom.

"The deep has power on the height,
And the height has power on the deep;
They are raised for ever and ever,
And sink again into sleep."

Not raised for ever and ever,

Three dead men have I loved, and thou But when their cycle is o'er,

art last of the three.

THE VOICE AND THE PEAK.

THE Voice and the Peak

Far over summit and lawn,
The lone glow and long roar

The valley, the voice, the peak, the star,
Pass, and are found no more.

The Peak is high and flush'd
At his highest with sunrise fire;

The peak is high, and the stars are high,
And the thought of a man is higher.

Green-rushing from the rosy thrones of A voice below the voice,

dawn!

All night have I heard the voice
Rave over the rocky bar,
But thou wert silent in heaven,
Above thee glided the star.

Hast thou no voice, O Peak,
That standest high above all?

And a height beyond the height!
Our hearing is not hearing,
And our seeing is not sight.

The voice and the Peak
Far into heaven withdrawn,
The lone glow and the long roar
Green-rushing from the rosy thrones of
dawn!

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