Arthur, King of the Britons, who flourished about 516 A. D. whose valour was so great that the accounts of it appear fabulous rather than real, having vanquished the Saxons and effectually driven them out of his kingdom after twelve successive battles (in one of which, fought at Caerbadon in Berkshire, it is asserted he killed no less than 440 of the enemy with his own hand), and also conquered Norway, Sweden, the principal part of France, was crowned at Paris. On his return home in great splendour, a vast concourse of foreign princes and valiant knights flocked from all parts of the world to his court; the king, unwilling to create controversies amongst his noble guests, by seeming to give precedence to one more than another, caused an immense round table to be erected in the great hall at Winchester, where he then held his court, at which it was so managed that no person could take place of another. He selected a fraternity of four and twenty, and elected it into an order of knighthood, dignifying the knights whom he chose companions with the title of “Knights of King Arthur’s round table,” himself to be their chief. These princely meetings were annually held with great pomp at Winchester. ❦ _By Sir Walter Raleigh, in the unquiett rest of his last sickness._[12] Eternal Mover, whose diffused glory To shew our groveling reason what thou art, Infoldes itself in cloudes of restless story, Where man (the proudest creature) acts his parte; Whom yett, alas! I know not why, we call The world’s contracted sunn, the little all. For what are wee, but lumpes of walking clay? What are our vaunts? whence should our spirits rise? Are not brute beasts as strong, and birds as gay; Trees longer liv’d, and creeping thinges as wise? Onlie our Soules recieve more inward light, To feel our weakness, and confess thy might. Lett these pure noates ascend unto thie throne, Where majestie doth sitt with mercy crown’d; Where my redeemer lives, in whome alone The errors of my wandringe life are drown’d. Where all the quire of heaven resound thi fame, That none but thine, thine is the saving name. Therefore my Soule, Joye in the midst of paine, That Christ, that conquer’d Hell, shall from above With greater triumphs yett returne againe, And conquer his own justice with his love; Commandinge earth and Seas to render those Unto his bliss, for whome hee pay’d his woes. Nowe have I doune, now are my joies at peace, And now my joies are stronger than my griefe; I feele those comforts that shall never cease, Future in hopes, but present in reliefe. Thy words are true, thy promises are just, And thou wilt knowe thy marked flock in dust. [12] Raleigh was born in 1552, and executed 29th October, 1618, to the eternal disgrace of the reign of James I. ❦