"Loud laugh'd they all,--the King, in vain, With questions task'd the giddy train; Let him entreat, or crave, or call, 'Twas one reply--loud laugh'd they all. Then o'er him mimic chains they fling, Framed of the fairest flowers of spring. While some their gentle force unite, Onward to drag the wondering knight, Some, bolder, urge his pace with blows, Dealt with the lily or the rose. Behind him were in triumph borne The warlike arms he late had worn. Four of the train combined to rear The terrors of Tintadgel's spear;[23] Two, laughing at their lack of strength, Dragg'd Caliburn in cumbrous length; One, while she aped a martial stride, Placed on her brows the helmet's pride; Then scream'd, 'twixt laughter and surprise, To feel its depth o'erwhelm her eyes. With revel-shout, and triumph-song, Thus gaily march'd the giddy throng. "Through many a gallery and hall They led, I ween, their royal thrall; At length, beneath a fair arcade Their march and song at once they staid. The eldest maiden of the band, (The lovely maid was scarce eighteen,) Raised, with imposing air, her hand, And reverent silence did command, On entrance of their Queen, And they were mute--But as a glance They steal on Arthur's countenance Bewilder'd with surprise, Their smother'd mirth again 'gan speak, In archly dimpled chin and cheek, And laughter-lighted eyes. "The attributes of those high days Now only live in minstrel-lays; Nor Nature, now exhausted, still Was then profuse of good and ill. Strength was gigantic, valour high, And wisdom soar'd beyond the sky, And beauty had such matchless beam As lights not now a lover's dream. Yet e'en in that romantic age, Ne'er were such charms by mortal seen, As Arthur's dazzled eyes engage, When forth on that enchanted stage, With glittering train of maid and page, Advanced the castle's Queen! While up the hall she slowly pass'd, Her dark eye on the King she cast, That flash'd expression strong; The longer dwelt that lingering look, Her cheek the livelier colour took, And scarce the shame-faced King could brook The gaze that lasted long. A sage, who had that look espied, Where kindling passion strove with pride, Had whisper'd, 'Prince, beware! From the chafed tiger rend the prey, Rush on the lion when at bay, Bar the fell dragon's blighted way, But shun that lovely snare!'--