WITH Arthur perished the bright gleam of hope for the British race, but the Saxons did not as yet advance farther westward, and it was not till the seventh century that Gladerhaf became Somerset. That he was buried at Glastonbury men knew, but the exact spot remained a secret from all, and so the record of Arthur’s life and labours became a myth on which the earliest and latest British poets alike have loved to dwell and idealise, till men scarce believed that he had any existence save in the realms of romance. Long years passed away. “The old order had changed and yielded place to new” more than once. The Britons had been avenged, for the Saxons had passed under the power of the Dane, and then rose again only to submit to the Norman. Yet the Saxons were never so crushed as the Britons had been, for the Teutons have a staying power and a power of combination that seem to have been denied to the Kelts. Only in Wales did the ancient race preserve their individuality. But a weird and troubled rule was that of the Norman father fighting against son, and brother against brother; and now it was in the year 1177 that Henry II., when on his journey to Ireland, to receive the submission of the princes of that country, passed through Pembroke, and was there entertained by some of the Welsh chieftains. Whilst there, “it chanced to him to heare sung to the harpe certaine ditties of the worthy exploits and actes of this Arthur by one of the Welsh bards, as they were termed, whose custom was to record and sing at their feasts the noble deeds of their ancestors, wherein mention was made of his death and place of buriall, designing it to be in the monks’ burial ground at Glastonbury, and that betwixt two pyramids there standing.”[79] King Henry made this known to his cousin Henry of Blois, who was at once Abbot of Glastonbury and Bishop of Winchester, but no steps seem to have been taken in his time to ascertain its truth; and it was not till after his death that, in the reign of Richard, Henry de Soliaco, nephew of the late king and Abbot of Glastonbury, instituted a search, the result of which has been described by Giraldus Cambrensis, the historian of his time, who was present when the grave was opened. “At the depth of seven feet was a huge broad stone, whereon a leaden cross was fastened: on that part that lay downward, in rude and barbarous letters (as rudely set and contrived) this inscription was written upon that side of the lead that was towards the stone: ‘Hic jacet sepultus Rex Arturius in Insula Avalonia.’