Tintagel

I sat within Tintagel’s fabled walls, Amid the scattered stones of human works Crumbling upon the granite mount of God, As life upon the rock Eternity. And sitting there I heard two voices speak, The busy Ocean and the slothful Past; They whispered good King Arthur’s magic name, The Past was sad, the heartless Ocean laughed. Poor King, he lived for many happy years In his illusion, ’till all knowledge came Soul-stirring to this ruler of mankind, Who only knew the lying half of man. One blast of heavenly fire will kill the oak, One touch of knowledge broke this kingly heart; And so he donned his armour, took his sword Excalibur, and put his helmet on, And fought his way to Heaven, told his God How wicked men had ridden through his dream, Played with the devil at his Table-round, Their souls for stakes. He told of all their sins, The treacherous kiss of queenly Guinevere, Eyes swimming with the sight of Lancelot, How Merlin hoary with the frost of years, In Vivien’s lovely arms one day betrayed His life-long gathered lore of elfin charms, How Gawain lied, how knightly vows were broken As readily as lances in a tourney, And how these reckless Christian paladins Were thieves of honour, and the peerless dames All sin and loveliness. And God was silent.