MORNINGS IN SPRING. Th' unquiet mind's perturbed brood: a train We wake, and rage again our bosom rends, That laved the muddy soil-thus, many a day, Had closed our eyes. May ne'er my deadliest foe B. iii. p. 97. The poet goes on to narrate, that Lionel having informed the prince that he had seen, on coming to this accursed place, a castle not far distant, embosomed in a wood, Arthur and his friends proceed thither, and find it the habitation of the aged Ebrank, the father of Guendolen, who receives them with open arms. He and his daughter had beheld their approach from the battlements, and the fears of the former, lest they should be enemies, had been allayed by the latter declaring that she knew the foremost knight to be her long-lost Lionel. The meeting of the lovers is beautifully described, and Arthur, having spent the succeeding day with his hospitable host, takes his departure, directing Lionel and Cradoc to rejoin the Galician forces, whilst he, in obedience to the decrees of Heaven, pursues his way alone towards the mountains of Cambria. The fourth book, at its commencement, reverts to some events which had taken place during Arthur's voyage to collect succours, and introduces us to Lancelot, the bosom friend of the prince, and one of the most intrepid defenders of the British crown. He is represented as walking in deep abstraction on the cliffs near Milford Haven, having escaped from Carlisle, after cutting his way, with great havoc, through the camp of Hengist, who, despising a contest with warriors pent up in walls, was then invading Scotland; and who, on his return, hearing of this achievement of Lancelot, is preparing to take revenge, when he is ordered by the Weird Sisters to retire into and defend the enchanted castle, whose destruction by Arthur we have witnessed in the preceding book. Lancelot who, ignorant of what had occurred to Arthur, had been for some time anxiously expect ing the arrival of the prince in the bay with his auxiliary forces, now rushes impatiently to the seaside, when, to his great joy, he beholds the wishedfor sails emerging from the horizon; but, alas! no sooner are the chiefs landed than he hears from them a relation of the supposed death of Arthur, whom they believe to have perished, when, deceived by Urda, they saw him plunge into the sea. Grief at these tidings spreads through the ranks of the British, whilst their allies, not only sorrow-struck, but desponding, talk of re-embarking for their native soils, an intimation which calls forth from the indignant Lancelot the following strain of impassioned eloquence: Can cold dismay, thus Britain's knight addrest But blood, not tears, must grace his obsequies. If such was Arthur, such your generous aim, Their country's wrongs, their Arthur's sacred shade, The appeal is not made in vain; for the respective leaders now vie with each other in seconding the enthusiasm of the British chief; and, eager to avenge the apprehended death of Arthur, march instantly in search of the enemy. Meanwhile, Valdemar, king of Denmark, who, greatly to the umbrage of Hacon, the Norwegian monarch, had been appointed by Hengist, during his absence, chief in command, holds a feast at Carlisle; and, whilst all is revelry and mirth, some singing to the lyre their country's fame, or boasting of their own exploits, but by far the greater part immersed in dissonance and riot, their orgies are most appallingly broken in upon by the appearance of Odin, the Scandinavian god of war, whose form Urda had assumed for the purpose of inciting them. to march instantly against the British chieftains, now rapidly approaching. The picture which Mr. Hole has, in this place, given of the northern deity, and the address which he attributes to him, are at once splendid and characteristic, whilst the description of the joys of Valhalla, the paradise of the Scandinavians, will be found in strict conformity with the representations of the Edda. Sudden, dark clouds the rafter'd dome o'ercast : Offspring of heroes! famed in fields of fight, |
