I too, I too see, Guenevere. I see Your spirit, and my spirit, and that one Who stands between us; and I see the realm, I dreamed to make one flawless crystal, cracked To fragments; and the loss, the waste. But now I am come, through anguish and against my will, Into a light that shows me what I am, And where I go, and what endures beyond. Were it not for the pain, I had not known. In ignorance we tear each other’s hearts. Know you, Gawaine is gone, dead of his wound? GUENEVERE I know it. ARTHUR Know you, the great heart in him Turned once again to Launcelot at the last? The old love flooded over that dark hate: He knew that Launcelot loved him to the end From the beginning. Guenevere, my light Came then: I knew that Launcelot loved me Not less, but more, because he did me wrong; And I began to understand that love, Which knows not good or evil, but gives all, Because it turns as flowers do to the sun And goes like stream to sea. GUENEVERE I did the wrong. Through me the young have perished, the young men Have fallen in their blood. From me a woe goes welling through the world Like waves in the black night. ARTHUR From me, from me! In the beginning was my fault. I feel The end upon me, like the air of dawn, And see in light that is not of the earth What we have done to each other, and left undone. I in my far dream of that perfect realm, Clouded in cares of policy and state, Saw not what burning soul was at my side, Wanting the love that sees through human eyes And by love understands. I was blind. Now I am borne beyond Time’s wisdom and that fear Which moulds men’s justice. What am I, to speak Pardon or condemnation? I am come To humbleness that cries, “Father, forgive! We know not what we did.” It is I that say, “My Queen, forgive me.” Speak not any word. Your eyes have spoken. Guenevere, I go To battle. Give me your farewell. GUENEVERE To battle! Never an end of battle! ARTHUR Mordred stands, Ready to strike; and men, that I have made From nothing, now are Mordred’s. That name sucks All secret poison to itself. Yonder He waits me. I shall overthrow him--this Is a fight to put my soul in--yet a voice Within my heart assures me that I go To the last of all my battles. GUENEVERE To the last? ARTHUR I feel the wizard sword Excalibur Like an impatient spirit within my hand, As if he heard voices recalling me Out of this ended world. But I am freed; I am forgiven; the dark load is off. Say me farewell, Guenevere. GUENEVERE