Seen are all her dewy tears Let the bell of midnight toll, As her spirit disappears, For the passing of a soul. Weep, with doleful lamentation, For the castle's desolation, VI. Sweep the sadly-solemn dirge Rhineland! let thy sons and daughters The grave-like music was frequently interrupted by the roar of the tempest, which had now reached its height. The storm whirled and thundered around the ramparts, the hail battered against the time-beaten walls like showers of quarrels from the vibalists of an assaulting foe, the ancient towers rocked to their foundations, and the river that rolleth by forever dashed madly at the foot of the castle. The iron-bound gates grumbled on their rusty hinges, the rude casements shook to the blast, the defaced armor rattled as it hung on the walls, and a sconce, pendent by a silver chain from the keystone of the hollow ceiling overhead, swung to and fro, as if moved by a witched spell. Above all arose the wild scream of a bugle-horn, the terrible neigh of phantom steeds, and the tumultuous bark of infernal hounds, that no man had yet seen. The Wild Huntsman of the Oldenwalde was passing by. The owl flapped his mighty pinions to the storm, and gave a last prolonged cry. Overcome with terror, the attendants of Wilhemine remained immovably in their places. The stranger arose, and took the lady's hand; when the servants sprang forward in alarm, to resent the supposed insult, the two vanished from their grasp, and were seen no more. THE KNIGHTS OF THE ROUND TABLE. Or all the tales narrated in the old romantic fiction of England, none are so full of beauty and wildness as the tale, or rather collection of tales relating to King Arthur. The peculiar manner in which these stories were composed, being recited like the early Grecian poetry, necessarily rendered them very inharmonious. Each rhapsodist, taking some of the main facts in the generally received traditions, so interwove them with the products of his own imagination, that there were as many distinct stories as there were rhapsodists. There was no attempt to produce harmony, and consequently it is very difficult so to collate the different manuscripts and books as to arrive at one connected account of the adventures of Arthur. The numerous metrical romances, which existed both in English and French, were, however, compiled and modified by Sir Thomas Malory, and brought together in the prose work, called La Mort d'Arthur. It is mainly from this that I have derived the facts to be stated. The prose history of Geoffry of Monmouth, in which is related the life of Arthur, contains accounts of only a few matter of fact battles, speeches and exploits, quite different from those narrated by the old romancers. The manner of Arthur's enthronement was thus:-After the death of his father-Uther Pendragon, King of Britain-the nobles assembled, to elect a successor. This occasioned great strife, and the contest was still unsettled when one of them accidentally discovered, near by, a stone containing a sword, on which it was declared in letters of gold that the one who should draw it forth was to be the rightful heir to the throne. Each of the rival knights essayed to do this, but they all failed; when Arthur, a mere stripling, came forward, and, easily drawing out the sword, was unanimously proclaimed king. Among his attendants was Merlin, who figures largely among the heroes of the time as an enchanter and prophet. He was Arthur's constant companion, and assisted him, by his supernatural powers, to escape readily from all difficulties. Once, afterwards, Arthur was deprived of his sword in an engagement, and Merlin promised him a new and more powerful one. As they were riding together one day, they came to a lake, in the middle of which Arthur saw an arm clothed in white samite holding a sword in its hand. "Lo," said Merlin, "yonder is that sword that I spake of." With that they saw a damsel going upon the lake. "What damsel is that?" said Arthur. "That is the Lady of the Lake," said Merlin. Anon came the damsel unto Arthur and saluted him, and he her again. "Damsel," said Arthur, "what sword is that, that yonder the arm holdeth above the water? I would it were mine, for I have no sword." "Sir Arthur, King," said the damsel, "that sword is mine, and if ye will give me a gift when I ask it you, ye shall have it.” "By my faith," said Arthur, "I will give you what gift ye will ask." "Well," said the damsel," go ye into yonder barge, and row yourself to the sword, and take it and scabbard with you, and I will ask my gift when I see my time."* Arthur did thus, and bore away the sword. This was the fa mous sword Excalibur which he carried with him all his life, and with which he performed all the astounding deeds related of him. In his death, too, it occupies a prominent place, as we shall hereafter see. When Arthur had fairly taken possession of his throne, he began to look about him for a queen; and, after visiting several of the neighboring kings, he, at length, with Merlin's advice, resolved to wed Guinevere, a lady of noble blood and beauteous person; who, however, did not manifest an undivided affection for her liege lord. But Arthur brought home from her father's house a greater and more renowned gift; for he there received the ROUND TABLE. Around this assembled the king and his companion knights, and as each returned from his journeyings, he related there his adventures. The origin of the Round Table, as found in the old romance, is one of those extravagances which we hardly know whether to call superstitious or blasphemous. That tendency which exists in every heathen country, only partially christianized, to seek a compromise between the fables of heathenism and the teachings of the gospel, leads men to refer things marvelous to a Christian origin. Thus it was with these old romances. With a very vague idea of the spirituality of Christianity, they applied its doctrines and facts to the mate: iality of their original belief. seen in the account given of the Round Table. with Uther Pendragon, Arthur's father, tells him that Joseph of Arimathea being persecuted by the Jews, after the resurrection, for his attach *B. 1:25. This is plainly to be Merlin, in conversation ment to our Savior, withdrew with a great part of his lineage and many of his followers into the wilderness. There, being distressed for food, our Lord bade him make a table like that which had been used at the last supper of the apostles; and in the middle of the table was a void seat, in memory of that which Judas Iscariot had left vacant till it was filled by Matthias. "Thus," said Merlin to Uther, "there were two tables established; and, if you will listen to me, you will establish the third in the name of the Trinity; for the Trinity is always signified by three, and if you do this, great profit will it be to you both in body and soul." So Merlin made the Round Table at Cardnel in Wales, but it was much larger than the apostles' table, since various accounts place the number of knights who sat at it, from fifty to two hundred and fifty. So marvelous were the effects of the table, that after these knights had sat at it once, they became as loving as brothers to each other, even though they had never seen each other before. At the death of Uther, the table passed into the hands of Ladugan, the father of Guinevere. When Arthur received Guinevere as his queen, her father gave to him this table as a dowry, and forthwith it was established at Camelot, where Arthur's court was gathered. There was at this table, as at Joseph's, an empty seat called The Sege Perilous.* This seat, long vacant, for no one dared to take it, was to be occupied only by him who should accomplish the quest of the Sancgreal, or Holy Grail. The story of the Grail is the most remarkable of all the superstitions connected with the Round Table, and indeed the "Alcoran," as it has been called, of Arthurian Romance. It gave a strange coloring to the adventures of the knigi.ts, and was, in fact, the great object of those adventures. It is far more extravagant and daring than the story of the Round Table itself. According to the romancers, it was the cup from which Christ partook of his last supper, and which Joseph of Arimathea afterward used, to collect the blood that flowed from the wounds of the Redeemer. Upon coming to Great Britain, he brought with him this cup. At his death, it passed into the hands of his lineal descendants; but one of its keepers having failed to keep the requirements of its service, it disappeared, no one knew whither. To obtain this many a knight had roamed over the whole world, and now the order of the Round Table had vowed to seek it. But who was to achieve the quest? Did it de *Sege. Seat. A. S. . pend upon the prowess of the warrior? or upon the chivalrous heart? No. The Holy Grail was to be obtained only by a maiden knight, one unpolluted and chaste. Forth went those knights to seek it, each resolving that he would be its attainer. No danger deterred them, and when one was faint and sick, worn out by his laborious search, the invisible maiden clad in white, who bore about the precious cup, would appear before him, and the goblet, touched to his lips, instantly revived him. Sir Launcelot, with all his courage and chivalric attainments, had no power to achieve the quest by reason of his guilty commerce with Queen Guinevere. He is permitted to see its miraculous power in curing a companion knight, and once, indeed, does it come near to him. He is visiting King Pelles. "They went into the castle to take their repast, and anon came in a damsel, passing fair and young; and she bare a vessel of gold betwixt her hands, and thereto the king kneeled devoutly and said his prayers, and so did all that were there." "O Jesu," said Sir Launcelot, "what may this mean?" "This is," said the king, "the richest thing that any man hath living; and when this thing goeth about, the Round Table shall be dissolved; and know thou well, this is the holy Sancgreal that ye have here seen." One by one the knights of the Round Table died without obtaining it, for no one of them was pure of heart. And now came forward Sir Galahad, son of Launcelot, and he gave up his life to the quest. "Sometimes on lonely mountain meres I leap on board; no helmsman steers; A gentle sound, an awful light! Three angels bear the Holy Grail; * Then move the trees, the copses nod, #B. 11: 2. |