In moody posture there he sate, 70 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, 74 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. 66 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, sad but not cheerless. 66 And to Caerleon's loftiest tower Soon will the Knights of Arthur's Table And all will weep who there attend, "Shame! should a Child of royal line Die through the blindness of thy malice?" Thus to the Necromancer spake Nina, the Lady of the Lake, A gentle Sorceress, and benign, 80 85 90 95 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. 66 My pearly Boat, a shining Light, That brought me down that sunless river, 100 105 Through air, to thee my Charge will I deliver. 66 The very swiftest of thy cars Must, when my part is done, be ready; And, if that fail, consult the Stars To learn thy course; farewell! be prompt and steady." This scarcely spoken, she again 115 Urged o'er the wilderness in sportive gallop. 120 Soon did the gentle Nina reach That Isle without a house or haven; But a carved Lotus cast upon the beach 125 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. 130 No quest was hers of vague desire, 135 But with closed eyes,-of breath and bloom forsaken. 140 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. 145 The turmoil hushed, celestial springs And that soft rustling of invisible wings Which Angels make, on works of love descending And Nina heard a sweeter voice 150 Than if the Goddess of the flower had spoken: 155 Air, earth, sea, sky, and heaven, success betoken." So cheered, she left that Island bleak, Shed, on the Slumberer's cold wan cheek 160 Fleet was their course, and when they came Merlin, as fixed in thought he stood, 165 170 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 175 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. 180 Once more did gentle Nina lift The Princess, passive to all changes: The Birds with progress smooth and swift 185 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. 190 Awe-stricken stood both Knights and Dames Last lingering look of clay, that tames 195 All pride; by which all happiness is blighted. Said Merlin, "Mighty King, fair Lords, Lo! by a destiny well known. To mortals, joy is turned to sorrow; 200 205 Where she by shipwreck had been thrown; 209 Ill sight! but grief may vanish ere the morrow.' 66 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! 215 O winds without remorse! O shore ungrateful! "Rich robes are fretted by the moth; 220 His brain will burn, his stout heart split asunder. |