Leodogran, the King of Cameliard,
   Had one fair daughter, and none other child;
   And she was the fairest of all flesh on earth,
   Guinevere, and in her his one delight.

     For many a petty king ere Arthur came
   Ruled in this isle, and ever waging war
   Each upon other, wasted all the land;
   And still from time to time the heathen host
   Swarmed overseas, and harried what was left.
   And so there grew great tracts of wilderness,
   Wherein the beast was ever more and more,
   But man was less and less, till Arthur came.
   For first Aurelius lived and fought and died,
   And after him King Uther fought and died,
   But either failed to make the kingdom one.
   And after these King Arthur for a space,
   And through the puissance of his Table Round,
   Drew all their petty princedoms under him.
   Their king and head, and made a realm, and reigned.

     And thus the land of Cameliard was waste,
   Thick with wet woods, and many a beast therein,
   And none or few to scare or chase the beast;
   So that wild dog, and wolf and boar and bear
   Came night and day, and rooted in the fields,
   And wallowed in the gardens of the King.
   And ever and anon the wolf would steal
   The children and devour, but now and then,
   Her own brood lost or dead, lent her fierce teat
   To human sucklings; and the children, housed
   In her foul den, there at their meat would growl,
   And mock their foster mother on four feet,
   Till, straightened, they grew up to wolf-like men,
   Worse than the wolves. And King Leodogran
   Groaned for the Roman legions here again,
   And Caesar's eagle: then his brother king,
   Urien, assailed him: last a heathen horde,
   Reddening the sun with smoke and earth with blood,
   And on the spike that split the mother's heart
   Spitting the child, brake on him, till, amazed,
   He knew not whither he should turn for aid.

     But—for he heard of Arthur newly crowned,
   Though not without an uproar made by those
   Who cried, 'He is not Uther's son'—the King
   Sent to him, saying, 'Arise, and help us thou!
   For here between the man and beast we die.'

     And Arthur yet had done no deed of arms,
   But heard the call, and came: and Guinevere
   Stood by the castle walls to watch him pass;
   But since he neither wore on helm or shield
   The golden symbol of his kinglihood,
   But rode a simple knight among his knights,
   And many of these in richer arms than he,
   She saw him not, or marked not, if she saw,
   One among many, though his face was bare.
   But Arthur, looking downward as he past,
   Felt the light of her eyes into his life
   Smite on the sudden, yet rode on, and pitched
   His tents beside the forest. Then he drave
   The heathen; after, slew the beast, and felled
   The forest, letting in the sun, and made
   Broad pathways for the hunter and the knight
   And so returned.

                  For while he lingered there,
   A doubt that ever smouldered in the hearts
   Of those great Lords and Barons of his realm
   Flashed forth and into war: for most of these,
   Colleaguing with a score of petty kings,
   Made head against him, crying, 'Who is he
   That he should rule us? who hath proven him
   King Uther's son? for lo! we look at him,
   And find nor face nor bearing, limbs nor voice,
   Are like to those of Uther whom we knew.
   This is the son of Gorlois, not the King;
   This is the son of Anton, not the King.'

     And Arthur, passing thence to battle, felt
   Travail, and throes and agonies of the life,
   Desiring to be joined with Guinevere;
   And thinking as he rode, 'Her father said
   That there between the man and beast they die.
   Shall I not lift her from this land of beasts
   Up to my throne, and side by side with me?
   What happiness to reign a lonely king,
   Vext—O ye stars that shudder over me,
   O earth that soundest hollow under me,
   Vext with waste dreams? for saving I be joined
   To her that is the fairest under heaven,
   I seem as nothing in the mighty world,
   And cannot will my will, nor work my work
   Wholly, nor make myself in mine own realm
   Victor and lord. But were I joined with her,
   Then might we live together as one life,
   And reigning with one will in everything
   Have power on this dark land to lighten it,
   And power on this dead world to make it live.'

     Thereafter—as he speaks who tells the tale—
   When Arthur reached a field-of-battle bright
   With pitched pavilions of his foe, the world
   Was all so clear about him, that he saw
   The smallest rock far on the faintest hill,
   And even in high day the morning star.
   So when the King had set his banner broad,
   At once from either side, with trumpet-blast,
   And shouts, and clarions shrilling unto blood,
   The long-lanced battle let their horses run.
   And now the Barons and the kings prevailed,
   And now the King, as here and there that war
   Went swaying; but the Powers who walk the world
   Made lightnings and great thunders over him,
   And dazed all eyes, till Arthur by main might,
   And mightier of his hands with every blow,
   And leading all his knighthood threw the kings
   Carados, Urien, Cradlemont of Wales,
   Claudias, and Clariance of Northumberland,
   The King Brandagoras of Latangor,
   With Anguisant of Erin, Morganore,
   And Lot of Orkney. Then, before a voice
   As dreadful as the shout of one who sees
   To one who sins, and deems himself alone
   And all the world asleep, they swerved and brake
   Flying, and Arthur called to stay the brands
   That hacked among the flyers, 'Ho! they yield!'
   So like a painted battle the war stood
   Silenced, the living quiet as the dead,
   And in the heart of Arthur joy was lord.
   He laughed upon his warrior whom he loved
   And honoured most. 'Thou dost not doubt me King,
   So well thine arm hath wrought for me today.'
   'Sir and my liege,' he cried, 'the fire of God
   Descends upon thee in the battle-field:
   I know thee for my King!' Whereat the two,
   For each had warded either in the fight,
   Sware on the field of death a deathless love.
   And Arthur said, 'Man's word is God in man:
   Let chance what will, I trust thee to the death.'

     Then quickly from the foughten field he sent
   Ulfius, and Brastias, and Bedivere,
   His new-made knights, to King Leodogran,
   Saying, 'If I in aught have served thee well,
   Give me thy daughter Guinevere to wife.'

     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 called
   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 spake the hoary chamberlain and said,
   'Sir King, there be but two old men that know:
   And each is twice as old as I; and one
   Is Merlin, the wise man that ever served
   King Uther through his magic art; and one
   Is Merlin's master (so they call him) Bleys,
   Who taught him magic, but the scholar ran
   Before the master, and so far, that Bleys,
   Laid magic by, and sat him down, and wrote
   All things and whatsoever Merlin did
   In one great annal-book, where after-years
   Will learn the secret of our Arthur's birth.'

     To whom the King Leodogran replied,
   'O friend, had I been holpen half as well
   By this King Arthur as by thee today,
   Then beast and man had had their share of me:
   But summon here before us yet once more
   Ulfius, and Brastias, and Bedivere.'

     Then, when they came before him, the King said,
   'I have seen the cuckoo chased by lesser fowl,
   And reason in the chase: but wherefore now
   Do these your lords stir up the heat of war,
   Some calling Arthur born of Gorlois,
   Others of Anton? Tell me, ye yourselves,
   Hold ye this Arthur for King Uther's son?'