V
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Of the setting of the sun at Romeril.

Thus Arthur abode   on the ebb riding.  
At his land he looked   and longed sorely  
on the grass again   there green swaying,  
to walk at his will,   while the world lasted;  
the sweet to savour   of salt mingled        5
with wine-scented   waft of clover  
over sunlit turf   seaward leaning,  
in kindly Christendom   the clear ringing  
of bells to hear   on the breeze swaying,  
a king of peace   kingdom wielding        10
in a holy realm   beside Heaven’s gateway.  
  
On the land he looked   lofty shining.  
Treason trod there   trumpets sounding  
in power and pride.   Princes faithless  
on shore their shields   shameless marshalled,        15
their king betraying,   Christ forsaking,  
to heathen might   their hope turning.  
Men were mustering   marching southward,  
from the East hurried   evil horsemen  
as plague of fire   pouring ruinous;        20
white towers were burned,   wheat was trampled,  
the ground groaning   and the grass withered.  
There was woe in Britain   and the world faded;  
bells were silent,   blades were ringing  
hell’s gate was wide   and heaven distant.        25
  
Toll must he pay   and trewage grievous,  
the blood spending   that he best treasured  
the lives losing   that he loved dearest;  
there friends should fall   and the flower wither  
of fair knighthood,   for faith earning        30
the death and darkness,   doom of mortals,  
ere the walls were won   or the way conquered,  
or the grass again   there green springing  
his feet should feel   faring homeward.  
Never had Arthur   need or danger        35
tamed or daunted,   turned from purpose  
or his path hindered.   Now pity whelmed him  
and love of his land   and his loyal people,  
for the low misled   and the long-tempted,  
the weak that wavered,   for the wicked grieving.        40
With woe and weariness   and war sated,  
kingship owning   crowned and righteous  
he would pass in peace   pardon granting,  
the hurt healing   and the whole guiding,  
to Britain the blessed   bliss recalling.        45
Death lay between   dark before him  
ere the way were won   or the world conquered.  

 

[The next sixteen lines were written more hastily on a separate slip of paper.]

For Gawain he called.   Gravely speaking  
dark thoughts he showed   in his deep trouble.  
‘Liege and kinsman   loyal and noble,        50
my tower and targe,   my true counsel,  
the path before us   to peril leadeth.  
We have won the water.   The walls remain,  
and manned with menace   might defy they.  
Do we rightly choose   ruthless onset,        55
to traitor keeper   toll of death  
to pay for passage,   no price counting,  
on dread venture   at disadvantage  
all hope to hazard?   My heart urgeth  
that best it were   that battle waited.        60
To other landing   our arms leading  
let us trust the wind   and tide ebbing  
to waft us westward.’  

 

Here ends The Fall of Arthur in its latest form.