O deep-sea diver, who might then behold such sights as thou ?

The hoary monster's palaces! - methinks what joy 't were now

To go plumb-plunging down, amid the assembly of the whales,

And feel the churned sea round me boil beneath their

scourging tails!

Then deep in tangle-woods to fight the fierce sea-unicorn, And send him foiled and bellowing back, for all his ivory

horn;

To leave the subtle sworder-fish of bony blade forlorn; And for the ghastly-grinning shark, to laugh his jaws to

scorn;

To leap down on the kraken's back, where 'mid Norwegian isles

He lies, a lubber anchorage for sudden shallowed miles, Till, snorting like an under-sea volcano, off he rolls; Meanwhile to swing a-buffeting the far astonished shoals Of his back-browsing ocean-calves; or, haply, in a cove Shell-strown, and consecrate of old to some Undine's love, To find the long-haired mermaidens; or, hard by icy lands, To wrestle with the sea-serpent, upon cerulean sands.

O broad-armed fisher of the deep! whose sports can equal thine?

The Dolphin weighs a thousand tons that tugs thy cable

line;

And night by night 't is thy delight, thy glory day by day, Through sable sea and breaker white the giant game to

play.

But, shamer of our little sports, forgive the name I gave; A fisher's joy is to destroy, thine office is to save.

A lodger in the sea-king's halls! couldst thou but understand

Whose be the white bones by their side, or who that dripping band,

Slow swaying in the heaving wave, that round about thee

bend,

With sounds like breakers in a dream blessing their ancient friend!

O, couldst thou know what heroes glide with larger steps round thee,

Thine iron side would swell with pride, thou 'dst leap

within the sea!

Give honor to their memories who left the pleasant strand To shed their blood so freely for the love of fatherland, Who left their chance of quiet age and grassy churchyard grave

So freely, for a restless bed amid the tossing wave!

O, though our anchor may not be all I have fondly sung, Honor him for their memory whose bones he goes among!

MORTE D'ARTHUR.

S

BY ALFRED TENNYSON.

O all day long the noise of battle rolled
Among the mountains by the winter sea;
Until King Arthur's table, man by man,

Had fallen in Lyonness about their lord,

King Arthur: then, because his wound was deep,
The bold Sir Bedivere uplifted him,

Sir Bedivere, the last of all his knights,
And bore him to a chapel nigh the field,
A broken chancel with a broken cross,
That stood on a dark strait of barren land.
On one side lay the Ocean, and on one
Lay a great water, and the moon was full.

Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere:
"The sequel of to-day unsolders all
The goodliest fellowship of famous knights
Whereof this world holds record. Such a sleep

They sleep, the men I loved. I think that we

Shall never more, at any future time,

Delight our souls with talk of knightly deeds,
Walking about the gardens and the halls

Of Camelot, as in the days that were.

I perish by this people which I made,—
Though Merlin sware that I should come again
To rule once more, but let what will be, be,
I am so deeply smitten through the helm
That without help I cannot last till morn.
Thou therefore take my brand Excalibur,
Which was my pride: for thou rememberest how
In those old days, one summer noon, an arm
Rose up from out the bosom of the lake,
Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful,
Holding the sword, and how I rowed across
And took it, and have worn it, like a king:
And, wheresoever I am sung or told
In aftertime, this also shall be known:
But now delay not: take Excalibur,
And fling him far into the middle mere:
Watch what thou seest, and lightly bring me word.”
To him replied the bold Sir Bedivere :

"It is not meet, Sir King, to leave thee thus,
Aidless, alone, and smitten through the helm.
A little thing may harm a wounded man.
Yet I thy hest will all perform at full,
Watch what I see, and lightly bring thee word."
So saying, from the ruined shrine he stept
And in the moon athwart the place of tombs,
Where lay the mighty bones of ancient men,
Old knights, and over them the sea-wind sang
Shrill, chill, with flakes of foam. He, stepping down
By zigzag paths, and juts of pointed rock,

Came on the shining levels of the lake.

There drew he forth the brand Excalibur,

And o'er him, drawing it, the winter moon,
Brightening the skirts of a long cloud, ran forth
And sparkled keen with frost against the hilt:
For all the haft twinkled with diamond studs,
Myriads of topaz-lights, and jacinth-work
Of subtlest jewelry. He gazed so long
That both his eyes were dazzled, as he stood,
This way and that dividing the swift mind,
In act to throw: but at the last it seemed
Better to leave Excalibur concealed
There in the many-knotted water-flags,
That whistled stiff and dry about the marge.
So strode he back slow to the wounded king.

Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere: "Hast thou performed my mission which I gave ? What is it thou hast seen or what hast heard ? " And answer made the bold Sir Bedivere : "I heard the ripple washing in the reeds, And the wild water lapping on the crag."

To whom replied King Arthur, faint and pale: "Thou hast betrayed thy nature and thy name, Not rendering true answer, as beseemed Thy fealty, nor like a noble knight: For surer sign had followed, either hand, Or voice, or else a motion of the mere. This is a shameful thing for men to lie. Yet now, I charge thee, quickly go again As thou art lief and dear, and do the thing I bade thee, watch, and lightly bring me word." Then went Sir Bedivere the second time Across the ridge, and paced beside the mere,