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lirik lagu sean barrett - alfred lord tennyson - morte d'arthur

so all day long the noise of battle roll’d
among the mountains by the winter sea;
until king arthur’s table, man by man
had fallen in lyonnesse about their lord
king arthur: then, because his wound was deep
the bold sir bedivere uplifted him
sir bedivere, the last of all his knights
and bore him to a chapel nigh the field
a broken chancel with a broken cross
that stood on a dark strait of barren land
on one side lay the ocean, and on one
lay a great water, and the moon was full

then spake king arthur to sir bеdivere:
“the sеquel of to~day unsolders all
the goodliest fellowship of famous knights
whereof this world holds record. such a sleep
they sleep—the men i loved. i think that we
shall never more, at any future time
delight our souls with talk of knightly deeds
walking about the gardens and the halls
of camelot, as in the days that were
i perish by this people which i made,—
tho’ merlin sware that i should come again
to rule once more—but let what will be, be
i am so deeply smitten thro’ the helm
that without help i cannot last till morn
thou therefore take my brand excalibur
which was my pride: for thou rememberest how
in those old days, one summer noon, an arm
rose up from out the bosom of the lake
clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful
holding the sword—and how i row’d across
and took it, and have worn it, like a king:
and, wheresoever i am sung or told
in aftertime, this also shall be known:
but now delay not: take excalibur
and fling him far into the middle mere:
watch what thou seëst, and lightly bring me word.”
to him replied the bold sir bedivere:
“it is not meet, sir king, to leave thee thus
aidless, alone, and smitten thro’ the helm
a little thing may harm a wounded man
yet i thy hest will all perform at full
watch what i see, and lightly bring thee word.”

so saying, from the ruin’d shrine he stept
and in the moon athwart the place of tombs
where lay the mighty bones of ancient men
old knights, and over them the sea~wind sang
shrill, chill, with flakes of foam. he, stepping down
by zigzag paths, and juts of pointed rock
came on the shining levels of the lake

there drew he forth the brand excalibur
and o’er him, drawing it, the winter moon
brightening the skirts of a long cloud, ran forth
and sparkled keen with frost against the hilt:
for all the haft twinkled with diamond sparks
myriads of topaz~lights, and jacinth work
of subtlest jewellery. he gazed so long
that both his eyes were dazzled, as he stood
this way and that dividing the swift mind
in act to throw: but at the last it seem’d
better to leave excalibur conceal’d
there in the many~knotted water~flags
that whistled stiff and dry about the marge
so strode he back slow to the wounded king
then spake king arthur to sir bedivere:
“hast thou perform’d my mission which i gave?
what is it thou hast seen, or what hast heard?”

and answer made the bold sir bedivere:
“i heard the ripple washing in the reeds
and the wild water lapping on the crag.”

to whom replied king arthur, faint and pale:
“thou hast betray’d thy nature and thy name
not rendering true answer, as beseem’d
thy fealty, nor like a n0ble knight:
for surer sign had follow’d, either hand
or voice, or else a motion of the mere
this is a shameful thing for men to lie
yet now, i charge thee, quickly go again
as thou art lief and dear, and do the thing
i bade thee, watch, and lightly bring me word.”

then went sir bedivere the second time
across the ridge, and paced beside the mere
counting the dewy pebbles, fixed in thought;
but when he saw the wonder of the hilt
how curiously and strangely chased, he smote
his palms together, and he cried aloud
“and if indeed i cast the brand away
surely a precious thing, one worthy note
should thus be lost forever from the earth
which might have pleased the eyes of many men
what good should follow this, if this were done?
what harm, undone? deep harm to disobey
seeing obedience is the bond of rule
were it well to obey then, if a king demand
an act unprofitable, against himself?
the king is sick, and knows not what he does
what record, or what relic of my lord
should be to aftertime, but empty breath
and rumours of a doubt? but were this kept
stored in some treasure~house of mighty kings
some one might show it at a joust of arms
saying, ‘king arthur’s sword, excalibur
wrought by the lonely maiden of the lake;
nine years she wrought it, sitting in the deeps
upon the hidden bases of the hills.’
so might some old man speak in the aftertime
to all the people, winning reverence
but now much honour and much fame were lost.”

so spake he, clouded with his own conceit
and hid excalibur the second time
and so strode back slow to the wounded king

then spoke king arthur, breathing heavily:
“what is it thou hast seen, or what hast heard?”

and answer made the bold sir bedivere:
“i heard the water lapping on the crag
and the long ripple washing in the reeds.”

to whom replied king arthur, much in wrath:
“ah, miserable and unkind, untrue
unknightly, traitor~hearted! woe is me!
authority forgets a dying king
laid widow’d of the power in his eye
that bow’d the will. i see thee what thou art
for thou, the latest~left of all my knights
in whom should meet the offices of all
thou wouldst betray me for the precious hilt;
either from l~st of gold, or like a girl
valuing the giddy pleasure of the eyes
yet, for a man may fail in duty twice
and the third time may prosper, get thee hence:
but, if thou spare to fling excalibur
i will arise and slay thee with my hands.”

then quickly rose sir bedivere, and ran
and, leaping down the ridges lightly, plunged
among the bulrush~beds, and clutch’d the sword
and strongly wheel’d and threw it. the great brand
made lightnings in the splendour of the moon
and flashing round and round, and whirl’d in an arch
shot like a streamer of the northern morn
seen where the moving isles of winter shock
by night, with noises of the northern sea
so flash’d and fell the brand excalibur:
but ere he dipt the surface, rose an arm
clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful
and caught him by the hilt, and brandish’d him
three times, and drew him under in the mere
and lightly went the other to the king

then spoke king arthur, drawing thicker breath:
“now see i by thine eyes that this is done
speak out: what is it thou hast heard, or seen?”

and answer made the bold sir bedivere:
“sir king, i closed mine eyelids, lest the gems
should blind my purpose, for i never saw
nor shall see, here or elsewhere, till i die
not tho’ i live three lives of mortal men
so great a miracle as yonder hilt
then with both hands i flung him, wheeling him;
but when i look’d again, behold an arm
clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful
that caught him by the hilt, and brandish’d him
three times, and drew him under in the mere.”

and answer made king arthur, breathing hard:
“my end draws nigh; ‘t is time that i were gone
make broad thy shoulders to receive my weight
and bear me to the margin; yet i fear
my wound hath taken cold, and i shall die.”

so saying, from the pavement he half rose
slowly, with pain, reclining on his arm
and looking wistfully with wide blue eyes
as in a picture. him sir bedivere
remorsefully regarded thro’ his tears
and would have spoken, but he found not words
then took with care, and kneeling on one knee
o’er both his shoulders drew the languid hands
and rising bore him thro’ the place of tombs

but, as he walk’d, king arthur panted hard
like one that feels a nightmare on his bed
when all the house is mute. so sigh’d the king
muttering and murmuring at his ear, “quick, quick!
i fear it is too late, and i shall die.”
but the other swiftly strode from ridge to ridge
clothed with his breath, and looking, as he walk’d
larger than human on the frozen hills
he heard the deep behind him, and a cry
before. his own thought drove him like a goad
dry clash’d his harness in the icy caves
and barren chasms, and all to left and right
the bare black cliff clang’d round him, as he based
his feet on juts of slippery crag that rang
sharp~smitten with the dint of armed heels—
and on a sudden, lo! the level lake
and the long glories of the winter moon

then saw they how there hove a dusky barge
dark as a funeral scarf from stem to stern
beneath them; and descending they were ware
that all the decks were dense with stately forms
black~stoled, black~hooded, like a dream—by these
three queens with crowns of gold—and from them rose
a cry that shiver’d to the tingling stars
and, as it were one voice, an agony
of lamentation, like a wind, that shrills
all night in a waste land, where no one comes
or hath come, since the making of the world

then murmur’d arthur, “place me in the barge,”
and to the barge they came. there those three queens
put forth their hands, and took the king, and wept
but she that rose the tallest of them all
and fairest, laid his head upon her lap
and loosed the shatter’d casque, and chafed his hands
and call’d him by his name, complaining loud
and dropping bitter tears against his brow
striped with dark blood: for all his face was white
and colourless, and like the wither’d moon
smote by the fresh beam of the springing east;
and all his greaves and cuisses dash’d with drops
of onset; and the light and l~strous curls—
that made his forehead like a rising sun
high from the daïs~throne—were parch’d with dust;
or, clotted into points and hanging loose
mix’d with the knightly growth that fringed his lips
so like a shatter’d column lay the king;
not like that arthur who, with lance in rest
from spur to plume a star of tournament
shot thro’ the lists at camelot, and charged
before the eyes of ladies and of kings

then loudly cried the bold sir bedivere:
“ah! my lord arthur, whither shall i go?
where shall i hide my forehead and my eyes?
for now i see the true old times are dead
when every morning brought a n0ble chance
and every chance brought out a n0ble knight
such times have been not since the light that led
the holy elders with the gift of myrrh
but now the whole round table is dissolved
which was an image of the mighty world;
and i, the last, go forth companionless
and the days darken round me, and the years
among new men, strange faces, other minds.”

and slowly answer’d arthur from the barge:
“the old order changeth, yielding place to new
and god fulfils himself in many ways
lest one good custom should corrupt the world
comfort thyself: what comfort is in me?
i have lived my life, and that which i have done
may he within himself make pure! but thou
if thou shouldst never see my face again
pray for my soul. more things are wrought by prayer
than this world dreams of. wherefore, let thy voice
rise like a fountain for me night and day
for what are men better than sheep or goats
that nourish a blind life within the brain
if, knowing god, they lift not hands of prayer
both for themselves and those who call them friend?
for so the whole round earth is every way
bound by gold chains about the feet of god
but now farewell. i am going a long way
with these thou seëst—if indeed i go—
(for all my mind is clouded with a doubt)
to the island~valley of avilion;
where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow
nor ever wind blows loudly; but it lies
deep~meadow’d, happy, fair with orchard~lawns
and bowery hollows crown’d with summer sea
where i will heal me of my grievous wound.”

so said he, and the barge with oar and sail
moved from the brink, like some full~breasted swan
that, fluting a wild carol ere her death
ruffles her pure cold plume, and takes the flood
with swarthy webs. long stood sir bedivere
revolving many memories, till the hull
look’d one black dot against the verge of dawn
and on the mere the wailing died away

- lirik lagu sean barrett

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