What strange note blows upon that trumpet? BORS (_looking down the slope_) See, The fighting ceases, and the fighters all Stand motionless. LAUNCELOT Go, Bors, and bring me word. [_Exit_ BORS. ARTHUR Oh, Launcelot, would this war had never been! (_Thunder retreating._) Hark! how the heavens groan over us. Out of me, Had I capacity for utterance, would Like storm of woe from this dark bosom burst, Filling the world. LAUNCELOT Oh, Arthur! Oh, my King, Had we but met before, thus, face to face! Arthur, you trusted me; and though I guard Your Queen from death, I have not failed you since. But now, since we are met as naked souls Beneath dark heaven, I will confess me. I Have done you wrong that nothing can undo, Not though this thunder cracked the frame of things And spilled the molten world. Since first my eyes Saw Guenevere, I loved her. ARTHUR Launcelot! LAUNCELOT Oh! With wrestlings and with torture, yet with such Extreme necessity of love as bound me, Blinded! Against that storm I was not strong; I was a madman, rushing on a spear In rapture. Take your Queen back to your heart, Forgiven, but as for me--lift up your sword And claim this forfeit soul. (_A distant chanting is heard._) ARTHUR (_raising his sword_) I have good cause. I loved, and you have shamed me; more, undone My life, my hope, my kingdom! (_Letting his point fall._) No, I cannot. Were we but met in the hot battle’s blood I’d kill you for that cause. Now I am numbed; And something from within me stays my hand. Take my Queen pardoned to my heart, you plead. Ah, Launcelot! were it merely man and woman, Love should be wide and infinite as air To meet her at the world’s end with my arms, Even at the farthest erring. There’s no help. A man may pardon, but the King may not. The King is justice, or no more a King. LAUNCELOT Forgiveness is yet kinglier. Harden not Your heart for ever. ARTHUR Were there but a sign From this charged heaven---- LAUNCELOT Look! (_A gleam has appeared in the paling sky and the chant grows nearer._) ARTHUR Is there light On earth again? LAUNCELOT What strange stillness has seized upon the host? What chant is that? VOICES The King! The King! A wonder! Rome! Rome! (_Certain knights of either party return on the scene, and in their midst a white banner preceding a_ BISHOP, _with a train of priests chanting. With a last remote peal of thunder the storm passes away_.) BISHOP