Laurence Binyon

“ Agravaine
Do you dare insult my brother?
Lucan
Are Britain’s peers
Grown tavern brawlers?
Kay
Launcelot shall hear you
And prove upon your bodies that you lie.
Agravaine
The truth is out, and Launcelot shall die
For all his champions.
[Pg 60]
Patrice
Come we to the King.
Bedivere
Are knightly vows then turned to drunkards’ oaths?
Kay
Is loyalty in the gutter?
Gawaine
Shame on all
If one word come to the King’s ear of this.
Bedivere
And with this hubbub we affront the Queen
Most shamefully. Remove we all, at once.
(The knights pass out in great turmoil, Mordred lingering last.) ”

“ Mordred
The King will not believe
Without stark proof. But he shall have it. Listen.
I have a fellow, silent as the snow,
Who watches; he is soft on Launcelot’s steps,
And Launcelot’s a moth that cannot choose
But flit to the candle. There’s a secret way
To the Queen’s chamber, cunningly contrived;
Since Launcelot went, I have found it. Soon or late
We trap him; it may be this very night.
Agravaine
Stark proof for the King!
Mordred
Nail that into his soul
Red-hot as searing iron the flesh;
Then what a weapon is a righteous cause!
He will be just. King Arthur is most just. ”

“ Laurence Binyon, which dwells less on the rapture of youth than on its sadness—the melancholy of Theognis over youth's decay:
"O bright new-comer, filled with thoughts of joy,
Joy to be thine amid these pleasant plains,
Know'st thou not, child, what surely coming pains
Await thee, for that eager heart's annoy?
Misunderstanding, disappointment, tears,
Wronged love, spoiled hope, mistrust and ageing fears,
Eternal longing for one perfect friend,
And unavailing wishes without end?"
Mr. Cripps alone permits his Muse a gravely jocund note in his "Seasons' Comfort." ”

“ Torre
What is it?
Elaine
It is a rider.
Torre
I heard nothing.
Elaine
He is coming. He is coming. I can hear his step on the stair. Launcelot!
Torre
I hear nothing but the blackbird in the sycamore. (Elaine falls back.) See, sister Elaine, it is May. The thorn-boughs are white. Shall we go a-Maying in the woods? Just as we used?
Elaine
Let me die now. Since Sir Launcelot will not come to me, I must go to him.
Sir Bernard
Child, my child, put away the thoughts of earth.
Elaine
Dear father, I am an earthly woman, and love an earthly man. Is it so great an offence to love? ”

“ As a sad Muse in the melodious choir
Hushes her voice, to catch the happier voices by her.
Deep-shaded will I lie, and deeper yet
In night, where not a leaf its neighbour knows;
Forget the shining of the stars, forget
The vernal visitation of the rose;
And, far from all delights, prepare my heart's repose.
Strive how I may, I cannot slumber so:
Still burns that sleepless beauty on the mind;
Still insupportable those visions glow;
And hark! my spirit's aspirations find
An answer in the leaves, a warning on the wind. ”

“ With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.
Solemn the drums thrill; Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres.
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.
They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted;
They fell with their faces to the foe.
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old, ”

“ Launcelot! Has Mordred? Not a jot. If ever
There is dissension, rancour, envy, strife,
Seek Mordred: you will find him under it
Like a snake. Mordred loves you not.
Arthur
I know it,
And therefore must be just, more strictly just
Where I love least.
[Pg 79]
Gawaine
Believe me, Launcelot loves you.
Arthur
Do I not know it? Ah,
What curse of a sharp sight is come to me?
This very love: why was that pain in it?
Why was the torment in that loyal voice?
Gawaine
I would I had smitten Mordred to the earth
And silenced him for ever.
Arthur
Woman’s love!
It is a fire that eats upon the heart. ”

“ And, patient in thy purpose, to endure
The pity and the wisdom of the world.
Vain, vain such warning to those happy ears!
Disturb not their delight! By unkind powers
Doom'd to keep pace with the relentless Hours,
He, too, ere long, shall feel Earth's glory change;
Familiar names shall take an accent strange,
A deeper meaning, a more human tone;
No more pass'd by, unheeded or unknown,
The things that then shall be beheld through tears.
Yet, O just Nature, thou
Who, if men's hearts be hard, art always mild ”

“ Yet men begin to cry that with the King all is profitless fighting, but with Mordred feasting and plunder.
Bedivere
Would God we were fighting him, not Launcelot.
Gawaine enters.
Gawaine
Where is the King?
Bedivere
He has passed into his tent. He rests.
Gawaine
What, can remembrance sleep? The wrong that Launcelot has done is red before my eyes, day and night. Can he forget?
Bedivere
The King were a glad man, if he could forget. At the bottom of their hearts is a dear love one to the other. ”