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The children and devour, but now and then,

Hor own brood lost or dead, lent her fierco teat To human sucklings; and the children, housed In her foul den, thero at their meat would growl, And mock their foster-mother on four feet,

Till, straighten'd, they grew up to wolf-like mon, Worso than the wolves. And King Leodogran Gronn'd for the Roman legions here again,

And Cæsar's cagle: then his brother king,

Rience, assail'd him: last a heathen horde,

Reddening the sun with smoke and earth with

blood,

And on the spike that split the mother's heart
Spitting the child, brake on him, till, amazed,
He know not whither he should turn for aid.

But-for he heard of Arthur newly crown'd, Tho' not without an uproar made by those

Who cried, 'He is not Uther's son'-the king

Sent to him, saying, 'Arise, and help us thou!

For here between the man and beast we die.'

And Arthur yet had done no deed of arms, But heard the call, and came: and Guinevere Stood by the castlo walls to watch him pass; But since he neither wore on helm or shield The golden symbol of his kinglihood,

But rode a simple knight among his knights,
And many of these in richer arms than he,
She saw him not, or mark'd not, if she saw,
One among many, tho' his face was bare.
But Arthur, looking downward as he past,
Felt the light of her eyes into his life

Smite on the sudden, yet rode on, and pitch'd

His tents beside the forest. And he drave

The heathen, and he slew the beast, and fell'd

The forest, and let in the sun, and made

Broad pathways for the hunter and the knight;

And so return'd.

For while he linger'd there,

A doubt that ever smoulder'd in the hearts

Of those great Lords and Barons of his realm Flash'd forth and into war: for most of these Made head against him, crying, 'Who is ho That he should rule us? who hath proven him King Uther's son? for lo! we look at him,

And find nor face nor bearing, limbs nor voice,

Are like to those of Uther whom we know.

This is the son of Gorloïs, not the king;

This is the son of Anton, not the king.'

And Arthur, passing thence to battle, felt Travail, and throes and agonies of the life,

Desiring to be join'd with Guinevere ;

And thinking as he rode, 'Her father said

That there between the man and beast they die.

Shall I not lift her from this land of beasts

Up to my throne, and side by side with me?

What happiness to reign a lonely king,

Vext-0 yo stars that shudder over me,

O earth that soundest hollow under me,
Vext with waste dreams? for saving I be join'd

To her that is the fairest under heaven,

I scom as nothing in the mighty world,
And cannot will my will, nor work my work
Wholly, nor make myself in mine own realm
Victor and lord. But woro I join'd with her,
Then might wo live together as ono life,
And reigning with ono will in everything

Have power on this dark land to lighten it,
And

power on this dead world to make it live.

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