Yet still on that horizon hangs the cloud, 83 And on the cloud still rests the Cymrian's eye; "Alas," he murmur'd, "that one mist should shroud, Perchance from sorrow, that benignant sky!" But while he sigh'd the Vision vanished, And left once more the lone Bard by the dead. "Behold the close of thirteen hundred years; 84 Lo, Cymri's Daughter on the Saxon's throne! Free as their air thy Cymrian mountaineers, And in the heavens one rainbow cloud alone, Which shall not pass, until, the cycle o'er, The soul of Arthur comes to earth once more. "Dost thou choose Death?" the giant Dreamer said. 85 "Ay, for in death I seize the life of fame, And link the eternal millions with the dead," Replied the King--and to the sword he came Large-striding;--grasp'd the hilt;--the charmed brand Clove to the rock, and stirr'd not to his hand. The Dreaming Genius has his throne resumed; 86 Sit the Great Three with Silence for their reign, Awful as earliest Theban kings entomb'd, Or idols granite-hewn in Indian fane; When lo, the dove flew forth, and circling round, Dropp'd on the thorn-wreath which the Statue crown'd. Rose then the Vulture with its carnage-shriek, 87 Up coil'd the darting Asps; the bird above; Below the reptiles:--poison-fang and beak, Nearer and nearer gather'd round the dove; When with strange life the marble Image stirr'd, And sudden pause the Asps--and rests the Bird. "Mortal," the Image murmur'd, "I am He, 88 Whose voice alone the enchanted sword unsheathes, Mightier than yonder Shapes--eternally Throned upon light, though crown'd with thorny wreaths; Changeless amid the Halls of Time; my name In heaven is YOUTH, and on the earth is FAME, "All altars need their sacrifice; and mine 89 Asks every bloom in which thy heart delighted. Thorns are my garlands--wouldst thou serve the shrine, Drear is the faith to which thy vows are plighted. The Asp shall twine, the Vulture watch the prey, And Horror rend thee, let but Hope give way. "Wilt thou the falchion with the thorns it brings?" 90 "Yea--for the thorn-wreath hath not dimm'd thy smile." "Lo, thy first offering to the Vulture's wings, And the Asp's fangs!"--the cold lips answer'd, while Nearer and nearer the devourers came, Where the Dove resting hid the thorns of fame. And all the memories of that faithful guide, 91 The sweet companion of unfriended ways, When danger threaten'd, ever at his side, And ever, in the grief of later days, Soothing his heart with its mysterious love, Till AEgle's soul seem'd hovering in the Dove,--