And Labour, incense-crowned, shall hold her court Where now the sun scarce touches with his beams The scattered seeds of future argosies, That to the furthest limit of the world Shall bear the glory of the British name. And where a Grecian victor never trod, And where a Roman banner never waved, East, West, and North, and South, and to those Isles, Happy and rich, of which the poets dreamed But never saw, set far in Western seas, Beyond the pillars of the heathen god-- Shall Arthur’s realm extend, and dusky Kings Shall yield obeisance to his conquering fame. And She, the fourth fair tenant of the throne, Heir to the ripe fruit of long centuries, Shall reign o’er such an empire, and her name, Clasping the trophies of all ages, won By knightly deeds in every land and sea, Shall be VICTORIA. Then shall come a Prince From o’er the sea, of goodly mien and fair, And, winning her, win all that she has won-- Wedded to her, be good as she is pure-- Reigning with her, be wise as she is great-- And, loving her, be loved by all the world.” Then spake Sir Bedivere, all eagerly: “He, Merlin, is he not our Blameless King, Returned from his long sleep in Avalon, To crown the glories of the later world?” Then Merlin: “Wait a while, Sir Bedivere, And I will tell thee all. In deeds of war,-- The rage of battle, and the clangorous charge Of mailéd knights, and flash of hostile swords, And flying spears, and din of meeting shields, And all the use of man-ennobling might For Christ and for His Cross, to wrest the land From heathen foes--did Arthur win his fame. For this, by marvels, was he born and bred; For this, by marvels, was he chosen King; For this he sent his heralds to all parts Of the divided realm, to summon forth All bravest, truest knights of Christendom From rude and selfish war to Camelot, That they might be one heart around himself To send new life-blood through the sickly land, And purge it of the plague of heathennesse. And had not the foul falsehood of his house Broken athwart the true aim of his life, And set the Table Round against itself, Ere now the heathen Dragon had been crushed, Never again to raise its hideous head O’er the fair land that Christ’s apostle blessed.