In a far land beneath the setting sun, Now and long hence undreamed of (save by me Who, in my soul’s eye, see the great round world Whirled by the lightning touches of the sun Through time and space),--a land of stately woods, Of swift broad rivers, and of ocean lakes,-- The name of Arthur,--him that is to be,-- (Son of the Good Queen and the Blameless Prince), Shall shed new glories upon him we loved.” Then, by the memories of his lord, the King, Sir Bedivere was quickened into tears, But, like a boy ashamed to shew wet eyes Before a boy, he passed his mailéd hand Athwart his face, and frightened back his grief. And seeing Merlin made no sign to speak More of the Arthur of the after-time, He took the word: “Thanks, Merlin, thou art kind Beyond the limit of my gratitude, I fear me. Sorrow is a selfish thing, And much exacts from friendship. Still, I thank thee That thou hast not gainsayed my utmost quest. And, now, I pray God bless him when he comes, That other Arthur. May he keep his name As pure as his who ruled in Camelot; May he, in every wise, be like to him, Save in the pain that comes of love deceived And trampled faith; and may his far-off land Be great by noble deeds of noble men.” Then came a sound of music from the Lake, Like the soft sighing of the summer winds Among the pine-trees, and Sir Bedivere Turned toward the sound. But as he turned again To ask of Merlin what the music meant, Merlin was gone, and he was all alone-- Alone upon the beach amid the dead! DEVENISH. I. ’Twas years since I had heard the name, When, seen in print, before my eyes The old Round Tower seemed to rise, With silent scorn of noisy fame. II. Our little boat, like water-bird, Touches the still Lake, breast to breast; No sound disturbs the solemn rest Save kiss of oar and whisper’d word. III. All Nature wears a placid smile Of gold and blue and tender green; And in the setting of the scene Lies, like a gem, the Holy Isle. IV. Hushed is the music of the oar; A little hand is placed in mine; My blood runs wildly, as with wine-- We stand together on the shore. V. O boyish days! O boyish heart! In vain I wish you back again! O boyish fancy’s first sweet pain, How glorious, after all, thou art! VI. The old Round Tower, the ruined walls, Where mould’ring bones once knelt in prayer, The Latin legend, winding stair,-- These any “tourist’s book” recalls. VII. But, oh! the love, the wild delight, The sweet romance of long ago, All these have vanished, as the glow Of eventide fades out at night. KINGS OF MEN.