Of the setting of the sun at Romeril.
| Thus Arthur abode on the ebb riding. |
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| At his land he looked and longed sorely |
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| on the grass again there green swaying, |
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| to walk at his will, while the world lasted; |
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| the sweet to savour of salt mingled |
5 |
| with wine-scented waft of clover |
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| over sunlit turf seaward leaning, |
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| in kindly Christendom the clear ringing |
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| of bells to hear on the breeze swaying, |
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| a king of peace kingdom wielding |
10 |
| in a holy realm beside Heaven’s gateway. |
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| | |
| On the land he looked lofty shining. |
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| Treason trod there trumpets sounding |
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| in power and pride. Princes faithless |
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| on shore their shields shameless marshalled, |
15 |
| their king betraying, Christ forsaking, |
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| to heathen might their hope turning. |
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| Men were mustering marching southward, |
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| from the East hurried evil horsemen |
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| as plague of fire pouring ruinous; |
20 |
| white towers were burned, wheat was trampled, |
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| the ground groaning and the grass withered. |
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| There was woe in Britain and the world faded; |
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| bells were silent, blades were ringing |
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| hell’s gate was wide and heaven distant. |
25 |
| | |
| Toll must he pay and trewage grievous, |
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| the blood spending that he best treasured |
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| the lives losing that he loved dearest; |
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| there friends should fall and the flower wither |
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| of fair knighthood, for faith earning |
30 |
| the death and darkness, doom of mortals, |
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| ere the walls were won or the way conquered, |
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| or the grass again there green springing |
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| his feet should feel faring homeward. |
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| Never had Arthur need or danger |
35 |
| tamed or daunted, turned from purpose |
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| or his path hindered. Now pity whelmed him |
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| and love of his land and his loyal people, |
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| for the low misled and the long-tempted, |
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| the weak that wavered, for the wicked grieving. |
40 |
| With woe and weariness and war sated, |
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| kingship owning crowned and righteous |
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| he would pass in peace pardon granting, |
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| the hurt healing and the whole guiding, |
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| to Britain the blessed bliss recalling. |
45 |
| Death lay between dark before him |
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| ere the way were won or the world conquered. |
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| For Gawain he called. Gravely speaking |
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| dark thoughts he showed in his deep trouble. |
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| ‘Liege and kinsman loyal and noble, |
50 |
| my tower and targe, my true counsel, |
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| the path before us to peril leadeth. |
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| We have won the water. The walls remain, |
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| and manned with menace might defy they. |
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| Do we rightly choose ruthless onset, |
55 |
| to traitor keeper toll of death |
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| to pay for passage, no price counting, |
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| on dread venture at disadvantage |
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| all hope to hazard? My heart urgeth |
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| that best it were that battle waited. |
60 |
| To other landing our arms leading |
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| let us trust the wind and tide ebbing |
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| to waft us westward.’ |
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