Next the three Chiefs of Eloquence;[5] the kings 15 Whose hosts are thoughts, whose realm the human mind, Who out of words evoke the souls of things, And shape the lofty drama of mankind; Wit charms the fancy, wisdom guides the sense; To make men nobler--_that_ is Eloquence! As from the Mount of Gold, auriferous flows 16 The Lydian wave, thy pomp of period shines, Resplendent Drudwas--glittering as it goes High from the mount, but labouring through the mines, And thence the tides, enriching while they run, Glass every fruit that ripens to the sun. But, like the vigour of a Celtic stream, 17 Eliwlod's rush of manly sense along, Fresh with the sparkles of a healthful beam, And quick with impulse like a poet's song. How listening crowds that knightly voice delights-- If from those crowds are banish'd all but knights! The third, though young, well worthy of his place, 18 Was Gawaine, courteous, blithe, and debonnair, Arch Mercury's wit, with careless Cupid's face; Frank as the sun, but searching as the air, Who with bland parlance prefaced doughtiest blows, And mildly arguing--arguing brain'd his foes. Next came the three--in mystic Triads hight 19 "The KNIGHTS OF LOVE;"[6] some type, the name conveys, For where no lover, there methinks no knight; All knights were lovers in King Arthur's days: Caswallawn; Trystan of the lion rock;[7] And, leaning on his harp, calm Caradoc! Thus class'd, distinct in peace,--let war dismay, 20 Straight in one bond the divers natures blend-- So varying tints in tranquil sunshine play, But form one iris if the rains descend; And, fused in light against the clouds that lower, Forbid the deluge while they own the shower! On the bright group the Prophet rests his gaze, 21 Then the deep voice sonorous thrills aloud-- "In Carduel's vale the steers unheeded graze, To jocund winds the yellowing corn is bow'd, By hearths of mirth the waves of Isca flow, And Heaven above smiles down on peace below. "But far looks forth the warder from the tower, 22 And to the halls of Cymri's antique kings A soul that sees the future in the hour The desolation of its burthen brings; Hollow sounds earth beneath the clanging tread: Yon fields shall yield no harvest but the Dead! "And waves shall rush in crimson to the deep, 23 The Meteor Horse shall pale autumnal skies-- From RAURAN'S lairs the joyous wolves shall leap-- From EIFLE'S crags the screaming eagles rise-- Yea! while I speak, these halls the havoc nears! Red sets the sun behind the storm of spears!