Whom when he heard, Leodogran in heart
Debating—­“How should I that am a king,
However much he holp me at my need,
Give my one daughter saving to a king,
And a king’s son"?—­lifted his voice, and call’d
A hoary man, his chamberlain, to whom
He trusted all things, and of him required
His counsel:  “Knowest thou aught of Arthur’s birth?”

* * * * *

Then while the King debated with himself,

* * * * *

  . . . . . there came to Cameliard,

* * * * *

Lot’s wife, the Queen of Orkney, Bellicent;
Whom . . . . . . . . the King
Made feast for, as they sat at meat: 

* * * * *

’Ye come from Arthur’s court.  Victor his men
Report him!  Yea, but ye—­think ye this king—­
So many those that hate him, and so strong,
So few his knights, however brave they be—­
Hath body enow to hold his foeman down?’

‘O King,’ she cried, ’and I will tell thee:  few,
Few, but all brave, all of one mind with him;
For I was near him when the savage yells
Of Uther’s peerage died, and Arthur sat
Crowned on the dais, and all his warriors cried,
“Be thou the King, and we will work thy will
Who love thee,” Then the King in low deep tones,
And simple words of great authority,
Bound them by so straight vows to his own self
That when they rose, knighted from kneeling, some
Were pale as at the passing of a ghost,
Some flush’d, and others dazed, as one who wakes
Half blinded at the coming of a light.

’But when he spake, and cheer’d his Table Round
With large, divine, and comfortable words,
Beyond my tongue to tell thee—­I beheld
From eye to eye thro’ all their Order flash
A momentary likeness of the King;

* * * * *

’And there I saw mage Merlin, whose vast wit
And hundred winters are but as the hands
Of loyal vassals toiling for their liege.

’And near him stood the Lady of the Lake,
Who knew a subtler magic than his own—­
Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful. 
She gave the King his huge cross-hilted sword,
Whereby to drive the heathen out:  a mist
Of incense curl’d about her, and her face
Wellnigh was hidden in the minster gloom;
But there was heard among the holy hymns
A voice as of the waters, for she dwells
Down in a deep—­calm, whatsoever storms
May shake the world—­and when the surface rolls,
Hath power to walk the waters like our Lord.’

Thereat Leodogran rejoiced, but thought
To sift his doubtings to the last, and ask’d,
Fixing full eyes of question on her face,
’The swallow and the swift are near akin,
But thou art closer to this noble prince,
Being his own dear sister;’

* * * * *