So shows my soul before the Lamb, So in mine earthly house I am, To that I hope to be. Break up the heavens, oh Lord! and far, Through all yon starlight keen, Draw me, thy bride, a glittering star, In raiment white and clean. III. He lifts me to the golden doors; All heaven bursts her starry floors, Roll back, and far within. For me the Heavenly Bridegroom waits, To make me pure of sin. The sabbaths of Eternity, One sabbath deep and wide- SIR GALAHAD. I. My good blade carves the casques of men, My tough lance thrusteth sure, The shattering trumpet shrilleth high, The hard brands shiver on the steel, The splintered spear-shafts crack and fly, The horse and rider reel : They reel, they roll in clanging lists, And when the tide of combat stands, Perfume and flowers fall in showers, That lightly rain from ladies' hands. II. How sweet are looks that ladies bend On whom their favors fall! For them I battle till the end, To save from shame and thrall: But all my heart is drawn above, My knees are bowed in crypt and shrine : I never felt the kiss of love, Nor maiden's hand in mine. More bounteous aspects on me beam, Me mightier transports move and thrill; So keep I fair through faith and prayer A virgin heart in work and will. III. When down the stormy crescent goes, Between dark stems the forest glows, Then by some secret shrine I ride; Fair gleams the snowy altar-cloth, The silver vessels sparkle clean, And solemn chaunts resound between. IV. Sometimes on lonely mountain-meres I leap on board: no helmsman steers: A gentle sound, an awful light! Three angels bear the holy Grail : As down dark tides the glory slides, V. When on my goodly charger borne The cock crows ere the Christmas morn, The tempest crackles on the leads, And, ringing, spins from brand and mail. But o'er the dark a glory spreads, And gilds the driving hail. Fly o'er waste fens and windy fields. VI. A maiden knight—to me is given I muse on joy that will not cease, Pure spaces clothed in living beams, Pure lilies of eternal peace, Whose odors haunt my dreams; And, stricken by an angel's hand, This mortal armor that I wear, This weight and size, this heart and eyes, Are touched, are turned to finest air. VII. The clouds are broken in the sky, Swells up, and shakes and falls. So pass I hostel, hall, and grange; By bridge and ford, by park and pale, All-armed I ride, whate'er betide, Until I find the holy Grail. |