King Arthur Super Pack. William Wordsworth. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: William Wordsworth
Издательство: Ingram
Серия: Positronic Super Pack Series
Жанр произведения: Ужасы и Мистика
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9781515403067
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go disguised to Arthur’s hall,

      And hire thyself to serve for meats and drinks

      Among the scullions and the kitchen-knaves,

      And those that hand the dish across the bar.

      Nor shalt thou tell thy name to anyone.

      And thou shalt serve a twelvemonth and a day.’

      For so the Queen believed that when her son

      Beheld his only way to glory lead

      Low down through villain kitchen-vassalage,

      Her own true Gareth was too princely-proud

      To pass thereby; so should he rest with her,

      Closed in her castle from the sound of arms.

      Silent awhile was Gareth, then replied,

      ‘The thrall in person may be free in soul,

      And I shall see the jousts. Thy son am I,

      And since thou art my mother, must obey.

      I therefore yield me freely to thy will;

      For hence will I, disguised, and hire myself

      To serve with scullions and with kitchen-knaves;

      Nor tell my name to any—no, not the King.’

      Gareth awhile lingered. The mother’s eye

      Full of the wistful fear that he would go,

      And turning toward him wheresoe’er he turned,

      Perplext his outward purpose, till an hour,

      When wakened by the wind which with full voice

      Swept bellowing through the darkness on to dawn,

      He rose, and out of slumber calling two

      That still had tended on him from his birth,

      Before the wakeful mother heard him, went.

      The three were clad like tillers of the soil.

      Southward they set their faces. The birds made

      Melody on branch, and melody in mid air.

      The damp hill-slopes were quickened into green,

      And the live green had kindled into flowers,

      For it was past the time of Easterday.

      So, when their feet were planted on the plain

      That broadened toward the base of Camelot,

      Far off they saw the silver-misty morn

      Rolling her smoke about the Royal mount,

      That rose between the forest and the field.

      At times the summit of the high city flashed;

      At times the spires and turrets half-way down

      Pricked through the mist; at times the great gate shone

      Only, that opened on the field below:

      Anon, the whole fair city had disappeared.

      Then those who went with Gareth were amazed,

      One crying, ‘Let us go no further, lord.

      Here is a city of Enchanters, built

      By fairy Kings.’ The second echoed him,

      ‘Lord, we have heard from our wise man at home

      To Northward, that this King is not the King,

      But only changeling out of Fairyland,

      Who drave the heathen hence by sorcery

      And Merlin’s glamour.’ Then the first again,

      ‘Lord, there is no such city anywhere,

      But all a vision.’

      Gareth answered them

      With laughter, swearing he had glamour enow

      In his own blood, his princedom, youth and hopes,

      To plunge old Merlin in the Arabian sea;

      So pushed them all unwilling toward the gate.

      And there was no gate like it under heaven.

      For barefoot on the keystone, which was lined

      And rippled like an ever-fleeting wave,

      The Lady of the Lake stood: all her dress

      Wept from her sides as water flowing away;

      But like the cross her great and goodly arms

      Stretched under the cornice and upheld:

      And drops of water fell from either hand;

      And down from one a sword was hung, from one

      A censer, either worn with wind and storm;

      And o’er her breast floated the sacred fish;

      And in the space to left of her, and right,

      Were Arthur’s wars in weird devices done,

      New things and old co-twisted, as if Time

      Were nothing, so inveterately, that men

      Were giddy gazing there; and over all

      High on the top were those three Queens, the friends

      Of Arthur, who should help him at his need.

      Then those with Gareth for so long a space

      Stared at the figures, that at last it seemed

      The dragon-boughts and elvish emblemings

      Began to move, seethe, twine and curl: they called

      To Gareth, ‘Lord, the gateway is alive.’

      And Gareth likewise on them fixt his eyes

      So long, that even to him they seemed to move.

      Out of the city a blast of music pealed.

      Back from the gate started the three, to whom

      From out thereunder came an ancient man,

      Long-bearded, saying, ‘Who be ye, my sons?’

      Then Gareth, ‘We be tillers of the soil,

      Who leaving share in furrow come to see

      The glories of our King: but these, my men,

      (Your city moved so weirdly in the mist)

      Doubt if the King be King at all, or come

      From Fairyland; and whether this be built

      By magic, and by fairy Kings and Queens;

      Or whether there be any city at all,

      Or all a vision: and this music now

      Hath scared them both, but tell thou these the truth.’

      Then that old Seer made answer playing on him

      And saying, ‘Son, I have seen the good ship sail

      Keel upward, and mast downward, in the heavens,

      And solid turrets topsy-turvy in air:

      And here is truth; but an it please thee not,

      Take thou the truth as thou hast told it me.

      For truly as thou sayest, a Fairy King

      And Fairy Queens have built the city, son;

      They came from out a sacred mountain-cleft

      Toward the