The grateful King, with many a soothing word, 40 And bland caress, the guileless trust repaid; When, gently gliding from his hand, the bird Went fluttering where the hollow headlands made A boat's small harbour; Arthur from the chain Released the raft,--it shot along the main. Now in that boat, beneath the eyes of heaven, 41 Floated the three, the steed, the bird, the man; To favouring winds the little sail was given; The shore fail'd gradual, dwindling to a span; The steed bent wistful o'er the watery realm; And the white dove perch'd tranquil at the helm. Haply by fisherman, its owner, left, 42 Within the boat were rude provisions stored; The yellow harvest from the wild bee reft, Bread, roots, dried fish, the luxuries of a board Health spreads for toil; while skins and flasks of reed Yield, these the water, those the strengthening mead. Five days, five nights, still onward, onward o'er 43 Light-swelling waves, bounded the bark its way: At last the sun set reddening on a shore; Walls on the cliff, and war-ships in the bay; While from bright towers, o'erlooking sea and plain, The Leopard-banners told the Vandal's reign. Amid those shifting royalties, the North 44 Pour'd from its teeming breast, in tumult driven, Now to, now fro, as thunder-clouds sent forth To darken, burst,--and bursting, clear the heaven; Ere yet the Nomad nations found repose, And order dawn'd as Charlemain arose; Amidst that ferment of fierce races, won 45 To yonder shores a wandering Vandal horde, Whose chief exchanged his war-tent for a throne, And shaped a sceptre from a conqueror's sword; His sons, expell'd by rude intestine broil, Sought that worst wilderness--the Stranger's soil. A distant kinsman, Ludovick his name, 46 With them was exiled, and with them return'd. A prince of popular and patriot fame; To roast his egg your house he would have burn'd! A patriot soul no ties of kindred knows-- His kinsman's palace was the house he chose. A patriot gamester playing for a Crown, 47 He watch'd the hazard with indifferent air, Rebuked well-wishers with a gentle frown, Then dropp'd the whisper--"What I win I share." Who plays for power should make the odds so fall, That one man's luck should seem the gain of all. The moment came, disorder split the realm; 48 Too stern the ruler, or too feebly stern; The supple kinsman slided to the helm, And trimm'd the rudder with a dexterous turn; A turn so dexterous, that it served to fling _Both_ overboard--the people and the king!