“She hated all the knights, and heard in thought Their lavish comment when her name was named. For once, when Arthur walking all alone, Vext at a rumour issued from herself Of some corruption crept among his knights, Had met her, Vivien, being greeted fair, Would fain have wrought upon his cloudy mood With reverent eyes mock-loyal, shaken voice, And flutter’d adoration, and at last With dark sweet hints of some who prized him more Than who should prize him most; at which the King Had gazed upon her blankly and gone by: But one had watch’d, and had not held his peace: It made the laughter of an afternoon That Vivien should attempt the blameless King. And after that, she set herself to gain Him, the most famous man of all those times, Merlin, who knew the range of all their arts, Had built the King his havens, ships, and halls, Was also Bard, and knew the starry heavens; The people call’d him Wizard; whom at first She play’d about with slight and sprightly talk, And vivid smiles, and faintly-venom’d points Of slander, glancing here and grazing there; And yielding to his kindlier moods, the Seer Would watch her at her petulance, and play, Ev’n when they seem’d unloveable, and laugh As those that watch a kitten; thus he grew Tolerant of what he half disdain’d, and she, Perceiving that she was but half disdain’d, Began to break her sports with graver fits, Turn red or pale, would often when they met Sigh fully, or all-silent gaze upon him With such a fixt devotion, that the old man, Tho’ doubtful, felt the flattery, and at times Would flatter his own wish in age for love, And half believe her true: for thus at times He waver’d; but that other clung to him, Fixt in her will, and so the seasons went.” Vivien is modern enough—if any type of character is modern: at all events there is no such Blanche Amory of a girl in the old legends and romances. In these Merlin fatigues the lady by his love; she learns his arts, and gets rid of him as she can. His forebodings in the Idyll contain a magnificent image:— “There lay she all her length and kiss’d his feet, As if in deepest reverence and in love. A twist of gold was round her hair; a robe Of samite without price, that more exprest Than hid her, clung about her lissome limbs, In colour like the satin-shining palm On sallows in the windy gleams of March: And while she kiss’d them, crying, ‘Trample me, Dear feet, that I have follow’d thro’ the world, And I will pay you worship; tread me down And I will kiss you for it’; he was mute: So dark a forethought roll’d about his brain, As on a dull day in an Ocean cave The blind wave feeling round his long sea-hall In silence.” We think of the blinded Cyclops groping round his cave, like “the blind wave feeling round his long sea-hall.”