193 Tennyson and the revival of King Arthur
Legend http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/King_Arthur
Gustave
Doré's illustration of Arthur and Merlin for Lord Alfred Tennyson’s Idylls of the King, 1868
In the early 19th century, medievalism,
Romanticism,
and the Gothic Revival reawakened interest in the Arthur and
the medieval romances. A new code of ethics for 19th-century gentlemen was
shaped around the chivalric ideals that the 'Arthur of romance' embodied. This
renewed interest first made itself felt in 1816, when Malory's Le Morte
d'Arthur was reprinted for the first time since 1634.[82] Initially the medieval Arthurian legends were of
particular interest to poets, inspiring, for example, William Wordsworth to write "The Egyptian
Maid" (1835), an allegory of the Holy Grail.[83] Pre-eminent among these was Alfred Lord Tennyson, whose
first Arthurian poem, "The Lady of Shalott", was published in
1832.[84] Although Arthur himself played a minor role in some of
these works, following in the medieval romance tradition, Tennyson's Arthurian
work reached its peak of popularity with Idylls of the King, which reworked the
entire narrative of Arthur's life for the Victorian
era. First published in 1859, it sold 10,000 copies within the first week.[85] In the Idylls, Arthur became a symbol of ideal
manhood whose attempt to establish a perfect kingdom on earth fails, finally,
through human weakness.[86] Tennyson's works prompted an large number of imitators,
generated considerable public interest in the legends of Arthur and the
character himself, and brought Malory’s tales to a wider audience.[87] Indeed, the first modernization of Malory's great
compilation of Arthur's tales was published shortly after Idylls
appeared, in 1862, and there were six further editions and five competitors
before the century ended.[88]
This
interest in the 'Arthur of romance' and his associated stories continued
through the 19th century and into the 20th, and influenced poets such as William
Morris and Pre-Raphaelite artists including Edward Burne-Jones.[89] Even the humorous tale of Tom Thumb,
which had been the primary manifestation of Arthur's legend in the 18th
century, was rewritten after the publication of Idylls. While Tom
maintained his small stature and remained a figure of comic relief, his story
now included more elements from the medieval Arthurian romances and Arthur is
treated more seriously and historically in these new versions.[90] The revived Arthurian romance also proved influential
in the United States, with such books as Sidney Lanier's The Boy's King
Arthur (1880) reaching wide audiences and providing inspiration for Mark Twain's
satiric A Connecticut Yankee in
King Arthur's Court (1889).[91] Although the 'Arthur of romance' was sometimes central
to these new Arthurian works (as he was in Burne-Jones's "The Sleep of
Arthur in Avalon", 1881-1898), on other occasions he reverted back to his
medieval status and is either marginalized or even missing entirely, with Wagner's
Arthurian operas providing a notable instance of the latter.[92] Furthermore, the revival of interest in Arthur and the
Arthurian tales did not continue unabated. By the end of the 19th century, it
was confined mainly to Pre-Raphaelite imitators,[93] and it could not avoid being affected by the First
World War, which damaged the reputation of chivalry and thus interest in
its medieval manifestations and Arthur as chivalric role model.[94] The romance tradition did, however, remain sufficiently
powerful to persuade Thomas Hardy, Laurence
Binyon and John Masefield to compose Arthurian plays,[95] and T. S. Eliot alludes to the Arthur myth (but not Arthur)
in his poem The Waste Land, which mentions the Fisher King.[96]
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Gender Play in "The
Egyptian Maid"
"The Egyptian Maid; or the Romance of the Water Lily,"
published in Yarrow Revisited, brings into focus Wordsworth's attitude
toward women in the later poetry. It also raises related questions of genre
and gender, since he terms his only Arthurian poem a romance and places at
its center a female character, Nina, the Lady of the ― 134 ― ("Out of the earth a Fabric huge / Rose like an
Exhalation," 710–11), Wordsworth does not recall the sublime context of
the Miltonic scene. Rather, Wordsworth associates the genre of romance with
ease and playfulness: the genre seems to provide both the space for a fantasy
of female power and a way to contain that power so that it does not become a
threat. Wordsworth embraces the magic of romance that he had rejected twenty
years earlier in The White Doe of Rylstone, but he dismisses any
serious implications. Significantly, Wordsworth revises his earlier stance in
terms of both genre and gender. On
the same day that the Wordsworths wrote to Quillinan, William wrote a letter
to George Huntly Gordon, in which he connects his romance directly with Dora: Our employments are odd enough here; my Daughter is at this
moment, in my sight, finishing a picture of a Dragon—and I have just
concluded a kind of romance with as much magic in it as would serve for half
a Dozen—but I prefer poems to Dragons for my aerial journey. I hope you will
be pleased with this poem of 360 verses when you see it—it rose from my
brain, without let or hindrance, like a vapour. (LY 1:663) Here
the "exhalation" becomes "vapour," but Wordsworth
continues to emphasize the lightness and ease of composition. He also
identifies his poem as a romance in a qualified way (the "sort of"
becomes "kind of"), as if not wanting to claim too much for this
360-line poem. He draws a connection between Dora and his romance: both father
and daughter, metaphorically speaking, are dragon-makers, creators of
pictures and plots in which aerial journeys and magical transformations are
possible. Dora inspires her father, accustomed to making his own life the
matter of his song, to write his first Arthurian romance. Dora, indeed,
inspires both the magic of romance and Wordsworth's wish to contain and
domesticate the feminine power and mystery associated with it. Wordsworth
judges "The Egyptian Maid" to be a strange poem, but he seems to
have been liberated by the Arthurian fantasy. As Mary Wordsworth reveals,
this poem was first destined for The Keepsake along with "The
Triad," although it was not actually published until 1835. Wordsworth's
letters reveal that he became quite absorbed in the poem, but this does not
preclude the possibility that he also shaped it for the Keepsake
audience—casual readers of embellished gift books. This is a far cry from the
nervous author of The White Doe devising a theory of reception around
his fears of publication. Now Wordsworth resents that he has to consider
publishing in a keepsake simply because he is offered a tempting amount. He
writes to a publisher, Samuel Carter Hall ― 135 ― (5 June ?1835): "You are perhaps aware that the Annuals
with their ornaments, have destroyed the Sale of several Poems which—till
that Invention of some evil Spirit (a German one I believe) was transplanted
to this Country—brought substantial profit to their Authors, [and] were
regarded as Standard works…. Competition, the Idol of the Political
economists, in fact ruins every thing" (LY 3:55–56). Resentful of
his own contributions to this "Idol," Wordsworth would have much
preferred to control the profits and presentation of his own "Standard
works."[22] Perhaps the crowning irony is that
Wordsworth used the money he received from The Keepsake to finance his
1828 tour (LY 1:64n). "The
Egyptian Maid," nonetheless, is one of Wordsworth's concessions to the
popular market. In seeming to write an airy and insubstantial romance,
Wordsworth may have felt safely removed from his private life and his
conflicted age, and thus the poem would be suitable for casual drawing-room
consumption. But despite its lightness, Wordsworth's poem presents anxious
and ineffective fathers. And in this work written for the most conventional
kind of publication, Wordsworth surprises us with unconventional gender
roles: bumbling men and strong women. In
"The Egyptian Maid" Wordsworth takes his characters' names from
Malory, but he creates his own narrative of the ship, The Water Lily,
carrying an Egyptian maid to Arthur's court. Since this poem is not as well
known today as it was in the 1830s, some plot summary may be necessary.
Merlin wrecks the ship because he envies its beauty and independence, but
Nina, whose role remains unacknowledged, brings about a happy resolution of
events. The main text of "The Egyptian Maid" falls into three
episodes: Merlin's jealousy of and destruction of the ship, Nina's
instructions to Merlin and the rescue of the Egyptian maid, and the awakening
of the maid by Galahad at Arthur's court. This main text is followed by the
pious angels' song, an orthodox commentary on the main narrative. "The
Egyptian Maid" begins with Merlin "pac[ing] the Cornish sands"
as he spots a ship coming into view. Merlin is pleased with the sight, even
more pleased as the vision becomes clear: Upon this winged Shape so fair (PW 3:12–17) ― 136 ― While it is conventional to depict ships as feminine, Wordsworth
here emphasizes gender. Utterly beautiful in "Shape" and
"lineaments," the ship becomes the object of Merlin's insistent
gaze. For a while Merlin is satisfied to gaze in admiration, but he
eventually becomes jealous of this autonomous creation and wants to control
it: "'My art shall tame her pride—'" (28). The pride Merlin
attributes to the ship is an affront to his power. A conflict develops in
which Merlin calls up a storm. The ship "wantonly [laves] / Her sides,
the Wizard's craft confounding" (43–44), but finally Merlin succeeds in
destroying her: "The storm has stripped her of her leaves; / The Lily
floats no longer!—She hath perished" (53–54). Wordsworth depicts
Merlin's action as a kind of sexual transgression, in which the ship is
"stripped" and destroyed. Throughout
these stanzas, the narrator describes the ship as a beautiful creature,
seemingly unaware of the danger she is in. In the manuscript, the lines
"[Merlin] cast / An altered look upon the advancing Stranger"
(24–25) had been "Full soon a sullen look he cast / Upon the bright
unconscious Stranger." Wordsworth's use of "wantonly" in line
43 could suggest a lascivious or flirtatious quality, but it seems more
likely to express the sportiveness of the "for ever fresh and
young" (46) ship. In the dynamics of this scene the ship is more a
victim of Merlin's "freakish will" (23) than a conscious enticer of
his gaze. Following
this description, the narrator turns to the reader in an attempt to control
the response to the episode: Grieve for her, she deserves no less; (55–60) By
reminding us that the ship is not a living creature, the narrator
paradoxically reinforces the episode as representing a human drama. Such a
fate, the lines imply, can befall one who loves and feels. In
this opening episode the female remains powerless, prey to male destruction:
both the ship and the maid are victims and no more. But Wordsworth soon
subverts any sense of Merlin's invincibility. Merlin flees back into his
cave, "repentant all too late" (69), sulking like a naughty boy who
has gotten what he wants and still is not happy. Merlin's will dissolves
before Nina, who descends upon him to explain the ― 137 ― consequences of his caprice. The scene is comic in its reversal
of expectations: the powerful sorcerer remains silent as the Lady of the When
Merlin brings the princess to Caerleon in a car pulled by swans, he accepts
no responsibility for her fate. He simply explains to the court that she was
the victim of a shipwreck. Indeed, he implicitly takes the credit for the
rescue and suggests that it is he who will be able to wake the princess from
her death-like sleep ("I, whose skill / Wafted her hither," 244–45).
In reality, Nina is the power behind Merlin's posturing. Nina
controls the final moment when Galahad's touch awakens the princess. Although
Galahad seems to be responsible, the narrator reveals that Nina has
manipulated the denouement: For late, as near a murmuring stream (301–6) This
passage evokes images of paradise—specifically, two scenes from Arthur,
unaware either of Merlin's guilt or of Nina's role, praises "God and
Heaven's pure Queen" (342) for the happy union of the princess and
Galahad. Arthur's orthodox Christian response foreshadows the eight-stanza
angels' song that concludes the poem. But as the opening stanzas of that
conclusion reveal, the angels' song adds a moralistic and judgmental
commentary: ― 138 ― Who shrinks not from alliance (355–66) These
lines misread the narrative, placing a narrowly moralistic interpretation on
what had been a much more open and generous story. The stanzas are
reminiscent of the glosses added to The Rime of the Ancient Mariner,
which function less to clarify than to complicate. The angels see the ship as
a mockery of God, because the "Idol" at her prow marks an unholy
alliance with the Christian mission of the ship. The angels claim that Merlin
was allowed to vent his "purblind mortal passion," by which means
the ship "Was wrought her punishment" for carrying the Idol. The
contradictions of the angels' song, with its ambiguous and contorted syntax,
bring the unresolved tensions in Wordsworth's supposedly carefree fantasy to
the foreground. While it is true that the poem presents an easy dichotomy
between heathen East and Christian West in the main narrative, the ship and
the lotus carved on the prow are in fact represented in a much more positive
way through Nina's eyes as she searches for the princess in the wrecked ship: Soon did the gentle Nina reach Sad relique, but how fair the while! (121–32) ― 139 ― The goddess represented by the lotus is benevolent, certainly
not the threatening idol described by the angels. Nina herself had explained
that "a Goddess with a Lily flower" (76) was an emblem "Of joy
immortal and of pure affection" (78). Furthermore,
in his note preceding the published poem, Wordsworth claims that "the
Lotus, with the bust of the Goddess appearing to rise out of the full-blown
flower, was suggested by the beautiful work of ancient art, once included
among the Townley Marbles, and now in the British Museum" (PW
3:232). Wordsworth writes in the spirit of Keats standing before a Grecian
urn, and not as a moralistic censor of pagan art. Add to that Wordsworth's
love of the lotus or water lily, recorded by Isabella Fenwick: "This
plant has been my delight from my boyhood, as I have seen it floating on the
lake" (PW 3:502), and the angels' condemnation of the image of
the lotus becomes even more suspect. The
angels' song is subtly connected to the politics of gender. In "The
Egyptian Maid" Wordsworth evokes the kind of female power that Nina
Auerbach identifies in Woman and the Demon— a "self-transforming
power surging beneath apparent victimization"—for while he creates the
passive sleeping beauty he sets another woman at the heart of her awakening.[23] But Wordsworth is careful to identify Nina
with virtue and benevolence, not with the sexually charged demonism that
Auerbach finds in other sources. Nina rescues the sleeping "Damsel"
(141) and carries her to Merlin for the journey to Caerleon. Heaven praises
her action: "Thou hast achieved, fair Dame! what none / Less pure in
spirit could have done" (153–54). But in the third part of the narrative
Wordsworth deflects attention from Nina's powers, instead focusing on the
awakening princess, who speaks not a word, and concluding with the angels'
song. Nina
orchestrates the resolution, while men—particularly fathers and kings—prove
ineffective. Arthur laments for the princess and her father, who has
surrendered his daughter to Arthur's court as a reward for Arthur's freeing
his realm from invaders. The poem centers on Arthur's lament for the maid,
"Is this her piety's reward?" (214). Arthur feels responsible
because of the vow he has made to her father, and he imagines the father's
response: "Rich robes are fretted by the moth; (217–22) ― 140 ― Arthur remains as helpless to save the princess as was the ocean
to save the ship: " Merlin,
however, demonstrates a type of male power that seems both to fascinate and
to repel Wordsworth. Just as Merlin observes the female ship, so does the
poet-persona in Wordsworth's earlier sonnet "With Ships the sea was
sprinkled far and nigh" (1807; PW 3:18): A goodly Vessel did I then espy In
a letter written to Lady Beaumont about this sonnet, Wordsworth explains the
way the mind of the perceiver focuses on this one ship out of the mass of
ships at sea, follows the ship, and then lets it go (MY 1:145–51).
What Wordsworth and later critics of the sonnet have not noted is the
metaphorical structure in which the poet-persona is a lover pursuing this
impressive feminine object, who strides "lustily along the bay." On
the metapoetic level this is a Petrarchan love sonnet about the poetic
process—the male poet identifies the object of his desire but his gaze cannot
hold her in place: "She will brook / No tarrying." The poet's
control is limited, and the object exists in the poem as a fleeing presence.
She has not been tamed.[24] In
"The Egyptian Maid," the object's beauty and independence threaten
Merlin's sovereignty, so he exerts his will over her. In attempting to
appropriate the ship, he destroys it through his transgression. While the
poet-persona of the sonnet merely records Merlin's failure to hold the
object, in fact Merlin betrays the potentially destructive power of the
artist's gaze, in much the same way that in many of his poems Browning
reveals what Carol T. Christ has called the "transgressive impulse"
of the male artist.[25] From
his earliest poems, Wordsworth recognized the dangers of the desire for
appropriation. Ambivalence about the psychic costs of conquest and
domination, for instance, appears in "Nutting" (1798), a poem about
transgressive male power often cited in feminist readings of Wordsworth.[26] We recall that in "Nutting" the
"sweet mood" (39) abruptly ends: ― 141 ― … Then up I rose, (43–48) In
"Nutting" the boy "sall[ies] forth" (5) as an invader of
the bower of romance, a questing hero disturbed by a recognition of his own
power into a discovery of otherness. Considering the violence of this action
and imagery, it is no wonder that Wordsworth did not include this poem in The
Prelude, the narrative of his life, even though thematically it fits with
the boat-stealing episode as a haunting transgression. What
distinguishes Merlin in "The Egyptian Maid" from other
transgressors is that Wordsworth makes him a comic character who creates
mischief and then sulks back into his cave. The drama of "Nutting"
is transformed in "The Egyptian Maid" by debunking humor, a
transformation that resembles the difference between Laodamia as imagined by
Virgil, on the one hand, and by Ovid, on the other. Wordsworth also counters
Merlin's transgression with Nina's restorations. Although all would be chaos
without Nina, her role is concealed to preserve the illusion of male power.
Wordsworth, then, writes a poem that upholds the pieties of his time but also
reveals how the masculine world is secretly held together by women. What a
remarkable poem for the poet of Rydal Mount to imagine: a powerful and
competent woman bringing order to the mess caused by sulking magicians and
ineffectual kings. Perhaps this is Wordsworth's oblique way of coming to
terms with the women who have created his household and made his poetic
career possible. And perhaps, too, Wordsworth knew it: the playfulness of the
poem allows him to let down his guard as he praises not masculine power but
the feminine beauty embodied by the lotus and the princess. And not just
beauty and delicacy, but strength. I also see a kind of self-deprecating
humor in "The Egyptian Maid" that reminds us of the poet laughing
himself to scorn at the end of "Resolution and But
the poem succeeded with readers who saw it as a simple male-centered romance,
with no regard for the role of Nina. One reviewer enthusiastically proclaimed
that "The lady revives, and the knight is blest," concluding that
after reading "The Egyptian Maid" he could say that ― 142 ― "The days of chivalry are not yet gone, while such
poems are produced." In this review from Fraser's Magazine 11
(June 1835), the poem becomes a simple tale of Merlin's ingenuity and
Arthur's chivalry: a perfect patriarchal fantasy. |
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http://www.sacred-texts.com/neu/arthur/art202.htm
THE EGYPTIAN MAID
OR
THE ROMANCE OF THE WATER-LILY
by
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
[For the names and persons in the following poem, see the "History of the
renowned Prince Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table;" for the rest
the Author is answerable; only it may be proper to add, that the Lotus, with
the bust of the goddess apppearing to rise out of the full-blown flower, was
suggested by the beautiful work of ancient art, once included among the Townley
Marbles, and now in the British Museum.]
While Merlin paced the Cornish sands,
Forth-looking toward the Rocks of Scilly,
The pleased Enchanter was aware
Of a bright Ship that seemed to hang in air,
Yet was she work of mortal hands,
And took from men her name--THE WATER LILY.
Soft was the wind, that landward blew;
And, as the Moon, o'er some dark hill ascendant,
Grows from a little edge of light
To a full orb, this Pinnace bright,
As nearer to the Coast she drew,
Appeared more glorious, with spread sail and pendant.
Upon this winged Shape so fair
Sage Merlin gazed with admiration:
Her lineaments, thought he, surpass
Aught that was ever shown in magic glass;
In patience built with subtle care;
Or, at a touch, set forth with wondrous transformation.
Now, though a Mechanist, whose skill
Shames the degenerate grasp of modern science,
Grave Merlin (and belike the more
For practising occult and perilous lore)
Was subject to a freakish will
That sapped good thoughts, or scared them with defiance.
Provoked to envious spleen, he cast
An altered look upon the advancing Stranger
Whom he had hailed with joy, and cried,
"My Art shall help to tame her pride--"
Anon the breeze became a blast,
And the waves rose, and sky portended danger.
With thrilling word, and potent sign
Traced on the beach, his work the Sorcerer urges;
The clouds in blacker clouds are lost,
Like spiteful Fiends that vanish, crossed
By Fiends of aspect more malign;
And the winds roused the Deep with fiercer scourges.
But worthy of the name she bore
Was this Sea-flower, this buoyant Galley;
Supreme in loveliness and grace
Of motion, whether in the embrace
Of trusty anchorage, or scudding o'er
The main flood roughened into hill and valley.
Behold, how wantonly she laves
Her sides, the Wizard's craft confounding;
Like something out of Ocean sprung
To be for ever fresh and young,
Breasts the sea-flashes, and huge waves
Top-gallant high, rebounding and rebounding!
But Ocean under magic heaves,
And cannot spare the Thing he cherished:
Ah! what avails that She was fair,
Luminous, blithe, and debonair?
The storm has stripped her of her leaves;
The Lily floats no longer!--She hath perished.
Grieve for her,--She deserves no less;
So like, yet so unlike, a living Creature!
No heart had she, no busy brain;
Though loved, she could not love again;
Though pitied, feel her own distress;
Nor aught that troubles us, the fools of Nature.
Yet is there cause for gushing tears;
So richly was this Galley laden;
A fairer than Herself she bore,
And, in her struggles, cast ashore;
A lovely One, who nothing hears
Of wind or wave--a meek and guileless Maiden.
Into a cave had Merlin fled
From mischief, caused by spells himself had muttered;
And, while repentant all too late,
In moody posture there he sate,
He heard a voice, and saw, with half-raised head,
A Visitant by whom these words were uttered:
"On Christian service this frail Bark
Sailed" (hear me, Merlin!) "under high protection,
Though on her prow a sign of heathen power
Was carved--a Goddess with a Lily flower,
The old Egyptian's emblematic mark
Of joy immortal and of pure affection.
"Her course was for the British strand,
Her freight it was a Damsel peerless;
God reigns above, and Spirits strong
May gather to avenge this wrong
Done to the Princess, and her Land
Which she in duty left, though sad not cheerless.
"And to Caerleon's loftiest tower
Soon will the Knights of Arthur's Table
A cry of lamentation send;
And all will weep who there attend,
To grace that Stranger's bridal hour,
For whom the sea was made unnavigable.
"Shame! should a Child of Royal Line
Die through the blindness of thy malice:"
Thus to the Necromancer spake
Nina, the Lady of the
A gentle Sorceress, and benign,
Who ne'er embittered any good man's chalice.
"What boots," continued she, "to mourn?
To expiate thy sin endeavour!
From the bleak isle where she is laid,
Fetched by our art, the Egyptian Maid
May yet to Arthur's court be borne
Cold as she is, ere life be fled for ever.
"My pearly Boat, a shining Light,
That brought me down that sunless river,
Will bear me on from wave to wave,
And back with her to this sea-cave;
Then Merlin! for a rapid flight
Through air to thee my charge will I deliver.
"The very swiftest of thy Cars
Must, when my part is done, be ready;
Meanwhile, for further guidance, look
Into thy own prophetic book;
And, if that fail, consult the Stars
To learn thy course; farewell! be prompt and steady."
This scarcely spoken, she again
Was seated in her gleaming Shallop,
That, o'er the yet-distempered Deep,
Pursued its way with bird-like sweep,
Or like a steed, without a rein,
Urged o'er the wilderness in sportive gallop.
Soon did the gentle Nina reach
That Isle without a house or haven;
Landing, she found not what she sought,
Nor saw of wreck or ruin aught
But a carved Lotus cast upon the shore
By the fierce waves, a flower in marble graven.
Sad relique, but how fair the while!
For gently each from each retreating
With backward curve, the leaves revealed
The bosom half, and half concealed,
Of a Divinity, that seemed to smile
On Nina as she passed, with hopeful greeting.
No quest was hers of vague desire,
Of tortured hope and purpose shaken;
Following the margin of a bay,
She spied the lonely Cast-away,
Unmarred, unstripped of her attire,
But with closed eyes,--of breath and bloom forsaken.
Then Nina, stooping down, embraced,
With tenderness and mild emotion,
The Damsel, in that trance embound;
And, while she raised her from the ground,
And in the pearly shallop placed,
Sleep fell upon the air, and stilled the ocean.
The turmoil hushed, celestial springs
Of music opened, and there came a blending
Of fragrance, underived from earth,
With gleams that owed not to the Sun their birth,
And that soft rustling of invisible wings
Which Angels make, on works of love descending.
And Nina heard a sweeter voice
Than if the Goddess of the Flower had spoken:
"Thou hast achieved, fair Dame! what none
Less pure in spirit could have done;
Go, in thy enterprise rejoice!
Air, earth, sea, sky, and heaven, success betoken."
So cheered she left that Island bleak,
A bare rock of the Scilly cluster;
And, as they traversed the smooth brine,
The self-illumined Brigantine
Shed, on the Slumberer's cold wan cheek
And pallid brow, a melancholy lustre.
Fleet was their course, and when they came
To the dim cavern, whence the river
Issued into the salt-sea flood,
Merlin, as fixed in thought he stood,
Was thus accosted by the Dame:
"Behold to thee my Charge I now deliver!
"But where attends thy chariot--where?"
Quoth Merlin, "Even as I was bidden,
So have I done; as trusty as thy barge
My vehicle shall prove--O precious Charge!
If this be sleep, how soft! if death, how fair!
Much have my books disclosed, but the end is hidden."
He spake, and gliding into view
Forth from the grotto's dimmest chamber
Came two mute Swans, whose plumes of dusky white
Changed, as the pair approached the light,
Drawing an ebon car, their hue
(Like clouds of sunset) into lucid amber.
Once more did gentle Nina lift
The Princess, passive to all changes:
The car received her; then up-went
Into the ethereal element
The Birds with progress smooth and swift
As thought, when through bright regions memory ranges.
Sage Merlin, at the Slumberer's side,
Instructs the Swans their way to measure;
And soon Caerleon's towers appeared,
And notes of minstrelsy were heard
From rich pavilions spreading wide,
For some high day of long-expected pleasure.
Awe-stricken stood both Knights and Dames
Ere on firm ground the car alighted;
Eftsoons astonishment was past,
For in that face they saw the last
Last lingering look of clay, that tames
All pride, by which all happiness is blighted.
Said Merlin, "Mighty King, fair Lords,
Away with feast and tilt and tourney!
Ye saw, throughout this Royal House,
Ye heard, a rocking marvellous
Of turrets, and a clash of swords
Self-shaken, as I closed my airy journey.
"Lo! by a destiny well known
To mortals, joy is turned to sorrow;
This is the wished-for Bride, the Maid
Of Egypt, from a rock conveyed
Where she by shipwreck had been thrown;
Ill sight! but grief may vanish ere the morrow."
"Though vast thy power, thy words are weak,"
Exclaimed the King, "a mockery hateful;
Dutiful Child! her lot how hard!
Is this her piety's reward?
Those watery locks, that bloodless cheek!
O winds without remorse! O shore ungrateful!
"Rich robes are fretted by the moth;
Towers, temples, fall by stroke of thunder;
Will that, or deeper thoughts, abate
A Father's sorrow for her fate?
He will repent him of his troth;
His brain will burn, his stout heart split asunder.
"Alas! and I have caused this woe;
For, when my prowess from invading Neighbours
Had freed his Realm, he plighted word
That he would turn to Christ our Lord,
And his dear Daughter on a Knight bestow
Whom I should choose for love and matchless labours.
"Her birth was heathen, but a fence
Of holy Angels round her hovered;
A Lady added to my court
So fair, of such divine report
And worship, seemed a recompence
For fifty kingdoms by my sword recovered.
"Ask not for whom, O champions true!
She was reserved by me her life's betrayer;
She who was meant to be a bride
Is now a corse; then put aside
Vain thoughts, and speed ye, with observance due
Of Christian rites, in Christian ground to lay her."
"The tomb," said Merlin, "may not close
Upon her yet, earth hide her beauty;
Not froward to thy sovereign will
Esteem me,
Wafted her hither, interpose
To check this pious haste of erring duty.
"My books command me to lay bare
The secret thou art bent on keeping;
Here must a high attest be given,
What Bridegroom was for her ordained by Heaven;
And in my glass significants there are
Of things that may to gladness turn this weeping.
"For this, approaching, One by One,
Thy Knights must touch the cold hand of the Virgin;
So, for the favoured One, the Flower may bloom
Once more; but, if unchangeagble her doom,
If life departed be for ever gone,
Some blest assurance, from this cloud emerging,
May teach him to bewail his loss;
Not with a grief that, like a vapour, rises
And melts; but grief devout that shall endure
And a perpetual growth secure
Of purposes which no false thought shall cross
A harvest of high hopes and noble enterprises."
"So be it," said the King;--"anon,
Here, where the Princess lies, begin the trial;
Knights each in order as ye stand
Step forth."--To touch the pallid hand
Sir Agravaine advanced; no sign he won
From Heaven or Earth;--Sir Kaye had like denial.
Abashed, Sir Dinas turned away;
Even for Sir Percival was no disclosure;
Though he, devoutest of all Champions, ere
He reached that ebon car, the bier
Whereon diffused like snow the Damsel lay,
Full thrice had crossed himself in meek composure.
Imagine (but ye Saints! who can?)
How in still air the balance trembled;
The wishes, peradventure the despites
That overcame some not ungenerous Knights;
And all the thoughts that lengthened out a span
Of time to Lords and Ladies thus assembled.
What patient confidence was here!
And there how many bosoms panted!
While drawing toward the Car Sir Gawaine, mailed
For tournament, his Beaver vailed,
And softly touched; but, to his princely cheer
And high expectancy, no sign was granted.
Next, disencumbered of his harp,
Sir Tristram, dear to thousands as a brother,
Came to the proof, nor grieved that there ensued
No change;--the fair Izonda he had wooed
With love too true, a love with pangs too sharp,
From hope too distant, not to dread another.
Not so Sir Launcelot;--from Heaven's grace
A sign he craved, tired slave of vain contrition;
The royal Guinever looked passing glad
When his touch failed.--Next came Sir Galahad;
He paused, and stood entranced by that still face
Whose features he had seen in noontide vision.
For late, as near a murmuring stream
He rested 'mid an arbour green and shady,
Nina, the good Enchantress, shed
A light around his mossy bed;
And, at her call, a waking dream
Prefigured to his sense the Egyptian Lady.
Now, while the bright-haired front he bowed,
And stood, far-kenned by mantle furred with ermine,
As o'er the insensate Body hung
The enrapt, the beautiful, the young,
Belief sank deep into the crowd
That he the solemn issue would determine.
Nor deem it strange; the Youth had worn
That very mantle on a day of glory,
The day when he achieved that matchless feat,
The marvel of the PERILOUS SEAT,
Which whosoe'er approached of strength was shorn,
Though King or Knight the most renowned in story.
He touched with hesitating hand,
And lo! those Birds, far-famed through Love's dominions,
The Swans, in triumph clap their wings;
And their necks play, involved in rings,
Like sinless snakes in Eden's happy land;--
"Mine is she," cried the Knight;--again they clapped their pinions.
"Mine was she--mine she is, though dead,
And to her name my soul shall cleave in sorrow;"
Whereat, a tender twilight streak
Of colour dawned upon the Damsel's cheek;
And her lips, quickening with uncertain red,
Seemed from each other a faint warmth to borrow
Deep was the awe, the rapture high,
Of love emboldened, hope with dread entwining,
When, to the mouth, relenting Death
Allowed a soft and flower-like breath,
Precursor to a timid sigh,
To lifted eyelids, and a doubtful shining.
In silence did King Arthur gaze
Upon the signs that pass away or tarry;
In silence watched the gentle strife
Of Nature leading back to life;
Then eased his Soul at length by praise
Of God, and Heaven's pure Queen--the blissful Mary.
Then said he, "Take her to thy heart
Sir Galahad! a treasure that God giveth
Bound by indissoluble ties to thee
Through mortal change and immortality;
Be happy and unenvied, thou who art
A goodly Knight that hath no Peer that liveth!"
Not long the Nuptials were delayed;
And sage tradition still rehearses
The pomp the glory of that hour
When toward the Altar from her bower
King Arthur led the Egyptian Maid,
And Angels carolled these far-echoed verses;--
Who shrinks not from alliance
Of evil with good Powers,
To God proclaims defiance,
And mocks whom he adores.
A Ship to Christ devoted
From the Land of Nile did go;
Alas! the bright Ship floated,
An Idol at her Prow.
By magic domination
The Heaven-permitted vent
Of purblind mortal passion,
Was wrought her punishment.
The Flower, the Form within it,
What served they in her need?
Her port she could not win it,
Nor from mishap be freed.
The tempest overcame her,
And she was seen no more;
But gently gently blame her,
She cast a
The Maid to Jesu hearkened,
And kept to him her faith,
Till sense in death was darkened,
Or sleep akin to death.
But Angels round her pillow
Kept watch, a viewless band;
And, billow favouring billow,
She reached the destined strand.
Blest Pair! whate'er befall you,
Your faith in Him approve
Who from frail earth can call you,
To bowers of endless love!
http://www.sacred-texts.com/neu/arthur/art202.htm