THE HIGH HISTORY OF GOOD
As the simoom, and forth did roll
A sudden thunder. Still they stood.
Then came a bugle-blast. The soul
Of each knight stirred. With vigour rude,
The blast tore down the tapestry
That hid the door. All ashen-hued
The knights laid hand to sword. But he
(Sir Palamedes) in the gap
Was found—God knoweth—bitterly
Weeping. Cried Arthur: “Strange the hap!
My knight, my dearest knight, my friend !
What gift had Fortune in her lap
Like thee? Embrace me!” “ Rather rend
Your garments, if you love me, sire!”
(Quod he). “Iam come unto the end.
All mine intent and my desire,
My quest, mine oath—all, all is done.
Burn them with me in fatal fire!
For I have failed. All ways, each one
I strove in, mocked me. If I quailed
Or shirked, God knows. I have not won:
That and no more I know. I failed.”
King Arthur fell a-weeping. Then
Merlin uprose, his face unveiled;