All cried aloud in Arthur, and he sprang 92 And sudden from the slaughter snatch'd the prey; "What!" said the Image, "can a moment's pang To the poor worthless favourite of a day Appal the soul that yearns for ends sublime, Aid sighs for empire o'er the world's of Time? "Wilt thou resign the guerdon of the Sword? 93 Wilt thou forego the freedom of thy land? Not one slight offering will thy heart accord? The hero's prize is for the martyr's hand." Safe on his breast the King replaced the guide, Raised his majestic front, and thus replied: "For Fame and Cymri, what is mine I give. 94 Life;--and brave death prefer to ease and power; But not for Fame or Cymri would I live Soil'd by the stain of one dishonour'd hour; And man's great cause was ne'er triumphant made, By man's worst meanness--Trust for gain betray'd. "Let then the rock the Sword for ever sheathe, 95 All blades are charmed in the Patriot's grasp! He spoke, and lo! the Statue's thorny wreath Bloom'd into roses--and each baffled asp Fell down and died of its own poison-sting, Back to the crag dull-sail'd the death-bird's wing. And from the Statue's smile, as when the morn 96 Unlocks the Eastern gates of Paradise, Ineffable joy, in light and beauty borne, Flow'd; and the azure of the distant skies Stole through the crimson hues the ruby gave, And slept, like Happiness, on Glory's wave. "Go," said the Image, "thou hast won the Sword; 97 He who thus values Honour more than Fame Makes Fame itself his servant, not his lord; And the man's heart achieves the hero's claim. But by Ambition is Ambition tried, None gain the guerdon who betray the guide!" Wondering the Monarch heard, and hearing laid 98 On the bright hilt-gem the obedient hand; Swift at the touch, leapt forth the diamond blade, And each long vista lighten'd with the brand; The speaking marble bow'd its reverent head, Rose the three Kings--the Dreamer and the Dead; Voices far off, as in the heart of heaven, 99 Hymn'd, "Hail, Fame-Conqueror in the Halls of Time;" Deep as to hell the flaming vaults were riven; High as to angels, space on space sublime Open'd, and flash'd upon the mortal's eye The Morning Land of Immortality. Bow'd down before the intolerable light, 100 Sank on his knees the King; and humbly veil'd The Home of Seraphs from the human sight; Then the freed soul forsook him, as it hail'd Through Flesh, its prison-house,--the spirit-choir; And fled as flies the music from the lyre.