König Arthurs Untergang

Arthur eastward    in arms purposed

his war to wage    on the wild marches,

over seas sailing    to Saxon lands,

from the Roman realm    ruin defending.

Thus the tides of time    to turn backward

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and the heathen to humble,    his hope urged him,

that with harrying ships    they should hunt no more

on the shining shores    and shallow waters

of South Britain,    booty seeking.

As when the earth dwindles    in autumn days

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and soon to its setting    the sun is waning

under mournful mist,    then a man will lust

for work and wandering,    while yet warm floweth

blood sun-kindled,    so burned his soul

after long glory    for a last assay

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of pride and prowess,    to the proof setting

will unyielding    in war with fate.

So fate fell-woven    forward drave him,

and with malice Mordred    his mind hardened,

saying that war was wisdom    and waiting folly.

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›Let their fanes be felled    and their fast places

bare and broken,    burned their havens,

and isles immune    from march of arms

or Roman reign    now reek to heaven

in fires of vengeance!    Fell thy hand is,

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fortune follows thee – fare and conquer!

And Britain the blessed,    thy broad kingdom,

I will hold unharmed    till thy home-coming.

Faithful hast thou found me.    But what foe dareth

war here to wake    or the walls assail

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of this island-realm    while Arthur liveth,

if the Eastern wolf    in his own forest

at last embayed    must for life battle?‹

So Mordred spake,    and men praised him,

Gawain guessed not    guile or treason

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in this bold counsel;    he was for battle eager,

in idle ease    the evil seeing

that had rent asunder    the Round Table.

Thus Arthur in arms    eastward journeyed,

and war awoke    in the wild regions.

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Halls and temples    of the heathen kings

his might assailed    marching in conquest

from the mouths of the Rhine    o’er many kingdoms.

Lancelot he missed;    Lionel and Ector,

Bors and Blamore    to battle came not;

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yet mighty lords    remained by him:

Bediver and Baldwin,    Brian of Ireland,

Marrac and Meneduc    from their mountain-towers;

Errac, and Iwain    of Urien’s line

that was king in Reged;    Cedivor the strong

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and the queen’s kinsman    Cador the hasty.

Greatest was Gawain,    whose glory waxed

as times darkened,    true and dauntless,

among knights peerless    ever anew proven,

defence and fortress    of a falling world.

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As in last sortie    from leaguered city

so Gawain led them.    As a glad trumpet

his voice was ringing    in the van of Arthur;

as a burning brand    his blade wielded

before the foremost    flashed as lightning.

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Foes before them,    flames behind them,

ever east and onward    eager rode they,

and folk fled them    as the face of God,

till earth was empty,    and no eyes saw them,

and no ears heard them    in the endless hills,

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save bird and beast    baleful haunting

the lonely lands.    Thus at last came they

to Mirkwood’s margin    under mountain-shadows:

waste was behind them,    walls before them;

on the houseless hills    ever higher mounting

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vast, unvanquished,    lay the veiled forest.

Dark and dreary    were the deep valleys,

where limbs gigantic    of lowering trees

in endless aisles    were arched o’er rivers

flowing down afar    from fells of ice.

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Among ruinous rocks    ravens croaking

eagles answered    in the air wheeling;

wolves were howling    on the wood’s border.

Cold blew the wind,    keen and wintry,

in rising wrath    from the rolling forest

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among roaring leaves.    Rain came darkly,

and the sun was swallowed    in sudden tempest.

The endless East    in anger woke,

and black thunder    born in dungeons

under mountains of menace    moved above them.

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Halting doubtful    there on high saw...