As on some stag the hunters single, gaze, 20 Gathering together, and from far, the herd, So round the margin of the woodland-maze Pale beauty circles, trembling if a bird Flutter a bough, or if, without a sound, Some leaf fall breezeless, eddying to the ground. An hour or more had towards the western seas 21 Speeded the golden chariot of the day, When a white plume came glancing through the trees, The serried branches groaningly gave way, And, with a bound, delivered from the wood, Safe, in the sun-light, royal Arthur stood. Who shall express the joy that aspect woke! 22 Some laugh'd aloud, and clapp'd their snowy hands: Some ran, some knelt, some turn'd aside and broke Into glad tears:--But all unheeding stands The King; and shivers in the glowing light; And his breast heaves as panting from a fight. Yet still in those pale features, seen more near, 23 Speak the stern will, the soul to valour true; It shames man not to feel man's human fear, It shames man only if the fear subdue; And masking trouble with a noble guile, Soon the proud heart restores the kingly smile. But no account could anxious love obtain, 24 Nor curious wonder, of the portents seen: "Bootless his search," he lightly said, "and vain As haply had the uncourteous summons been. Some mocking sport, perchance, of merry May." He ceased; and, shuddering, turn'd his looks away. Now back, alas! less comely than they went, 25 Drop, one by one, the seekers from the chace, With mangled plumes and mantles dreadly rent;-- Sore bleed the Loves in Elphin's blooming face: Madoc, whose dancing scarcely brush'd the dew, O grief! limps, crippled by a stump of yew! In short, such pranks had brier and bramble play'd, 26 And stock and stone, with vest, and face, and limb, That had some wretch denied the place was made For sprites, a sprite had soon been made of him! And sure, nought less than some demoniac power Had looks so sweet bewitch'd to lines so sour. But shame and anger vanish'd when they saw 27 Him whose warm smile a life had well repaid, For noble hearts a noble chief can draw Into that circle where all self doth fade; Lost in the sea a hundred waters roll, And subject natures merge in one great soul. Now once again quick question, brief reply, 28 "What saw, what heard the King?" Nay, gentles, what Saw or heard ye?"--"The forest and the sky, The rustling branches,"--"And the Phantom not? No more," quoth Arthur, "of a thriftless chace. For cheer so stinted brief may be the grace.