The Brut: The Passing of Arthur

A-horse to the king's host drew
A knight, both good and true.
Tidings he thought to bring
To Arthur, the Britons' king.
Of Modred his sister's son —
A welcome glad he won
From the king, who thought to hear
That which should bring him cheer.
Arthur lay long that night
And spake with that youthful knight,
But never a word did he say
Of that which had chanced alway.

When it came to the morrow's morn,
And the folk, they stirred with the dawn.
Then Arthur arose from his bed;
He stretched his arms over his head.
Then he stood, and he sat again.
E'en as one for misease is fain.
Then asked him that goodly knight,
"Lord, how hast thou passed the night? "
And Arthur, the king so good,
Made answer in troubled mood:
"Last night, as I lay on sleep
In my tent, and slumbered deep.
There came such a dream to me
As hath vexed me right bitterly —
Methought men lifted me there.
And raised me high in air.
Until that the roof-tree tall
I bestrode, of a lofty hall,
I sat there as I would ride, —
And below me, stretched out wide,
I saw all my goodly land ;
Before me, sword in hand.
Sat Walwain, my kinsman true.
Then Modred towards us drew.
With him came a goodly throng;
In his hand was an axe so strong
And with mighty strokes he felled
The posts that the hall upheld.
And then I saw Wenhavere,
(Woman to me most dear,)
With her hands the roof she tare
Of that hall, so great and fair.
Till the building rocked and swayed.
And I fell to the ground dismayed;
And there my right arm I brake —
'Take that!' so Modred spake.
Then in ruins fell that hall.
And it bare Walwain in its fall so
From the roof-tree e'en to the ground.
And he brake both arms at that stound.
Then I gripped my sword so good
In my left hand, as best I could.
And smote off Modred's head.
On the wold he fell down dead.
In pieces I hewed the queen
With my sword blade, good and keen,
And, methought, her corse at last
In a deep black pit I cast.
My folk, they had fled away.
And I knew not, by Christ, that day
Whither they all had gone —
But methought I stood alone
On a moor-land bleak and cold;
I wandered afar on the wold,
Gryphons I saw, I trow,
And grisley fowls enow!
Then over the down to me
Came a beast, most fair to see,
A golden lion, methought
'T was a work that God's hand had wrought !
The beast came to me forthright.
By the middle it gripped me tight.
And carried me o'er the land
Till we came to the salt sea strand.
And I saw the waves of the sea
How they drave right heavily.
Then the lion the flood would swim.
Bearing me ever with him,
But scarce were we come in the sea
Ere the waves bare him far from me.
Then a great fish came in my need.
And bare me to land with speed;
I was wet and weary, I trow.
For sorrow, and sick enow!
And then must I needs awake.
My heart did within me quake.
Then a heat and a trembling fell.
And I burned as with fires of Hell!
Thus all night long have I lain
And dreamed that dream o'er again,
'T is a token true, I wis.
That vanished is all my bliss,
And, while life be left to me.
Grief shall my portion be!
Alas! that I have not here
Wenhavere my queen so dear."
Then out spake that youthful knight:
"My lord, thou doest not right,
No man should so read a dream
As to turn it to sorrow, I ween !
For of all kings, I know full well.
Who under the welkin dwell.
To whose rule the people bow.
The richest and wisest art thou!
And if it should chance to be,
(May Christ keep it far from thee !)
That Modred, thy sister's son,
The heart of thy queen had won,

And had taken thy wife and thy land.
And had set them all in his hand,
(All thou didst leave in his care
When thou thoughtest afar to fare,)
And were thus for a traitor shown, —
Still mightest thou hold thine own.
And avenge thyself by war.
And rule thy folk as before.

And the men who this wrong had done
Thou could'st slay them every one,
Yea, and sweep them clean from the ground.
So that none should alive be found!"
Arthur, he answered then :
(Noblest was he of men,)
"So long as 'ever' may be
Ne'er do I think to see
The day that my kinsman dear.
The man to my heart most near.
Hath ever such treason planned
As to seize my crown and my land;
Or Wenhavere, my queen and love.
Shall other than steadfast prove!
Such work they would ne'er begin,
Tho' they thought thus the world to win!"
As he spake the word, forthright
There answered that gallant knight:
"I speak but the truth, my King,
For I am thine underling,
Even thus hath Modred done.
The heart of thy queen hath he won,
And all Britain, and thy fair land.
Hath he taken in his own hand.
As king and queen do they reign
Nor deem thou shalt come again,
'T is a far cry to the Roman shore.
From thence shalt thou come no more!
But I am thy man O King !
And I saw this evil thing,
To thyself have I brought this word.
And the truth, e'en as thou hast heard.
My head in pledge will I lay,
'T is sooth and no lie, that I say.
But even thus have they done.
Thy queen and thy sister's son,
Modred hath taken thy throne,
Thy land, and thy wife, for his own!"

Then never man stirred of all
Those knights in King Arthur's hall,
Right sorrowful was their mood
For the grief of their king so good.
Downcast and sad of mien
Were the British men, I ween !
'T was thus for a space, and then
Rose a clamour of angry men.
Till all far and wide might know
Of the Britons' wrath and woe!
In sooth might ye there have heard
Full many a threatening word.
Doom to the faithless pair,
Modred and the queen, they sware,
And the men who held with the twain
They all should be swiftly slain.
Then Arthur cried thro' the hall.
Fairest of Britons all,
"Sit ye down, and hold ye still
My knights, and hearken my will.
Strange words do I think to say.
To-morrow, when it be day.
By Christ, His power, and His grace.
Will I get me forth from this place.
To Britain I take my way.
And there will I Modred slay,
And the queen with fire will I burn;
And to loss and to ruin turn
All that have joined their hand
With them, and this treason planned.
But here will I leave in my place
Hoel, the fair of face,
(The first of my kinsmen he.
And dearest of men to me,)
With half of my army bold
That this kingdom he keep and hold.
And all this goodly land
That I late have set in mine hand.
And when I have vengeance ta'en
I will turn me to Rome again.
And my lands so wide and fair
Will I give into Walwain's care.
No empty threat do I make
But my life on my word I stake,
I will fell my foes every one.
Who this treason and wrong have done!"
Then Walwain arose in the ring,
He was kinsman unto the king,
Wrathful and stern his mood.
And he spake, "O almighty God,
Who dost judgment and doom award.
And this middle earth dost guard,
How did this thing begin?
"Why hath Modred wrought this sin?
Now ye folk, lend to me the ear;
This day I forsake him here,
I myself will his Doomsman be,
(So the Lord grant it unto me!)
Higher than e'er another
With this hand will I hang my brother!
And the queen I will judge by God's law.
Wild horses her limbs shall draw.
For never shall I be blithe
The while that I be alive
Till I right mine uncle and lord
To the best of my hand and sword!"
The Britons made answer then
With one voice, as valiant men:
"Our weapons are keen and bright.
To-morrow we march forthright!"
Then, since the Lord willed it so.
To-morrow they forth would go,
Arthur moved with the dawning light.
And with him his valiant knights,
One half of the folk must stay.
And one half marched with him alway.
Thus he led his men through the land
Till they came at the last to Whitsand;
Ships, full many and good,
Ready in harbour stood.
But a fortnight full his host
It lay becalmed on that coast.
Till the weather changed once more,
And the wind blew fresh from the shore.

Now in Arthur's host that day
Was one who would traitor play.
And when he heard men speak
Of the vengeance they thought to wreak.
Forthwith he took his swain.
And he bade him haste amain.
And bear to Wenhavere the word
Of how Arthur the tale had heard.
And how he would come ere long.
With a mickle host, and strong;
And how he had sworn an oath
To take vengeance upon them both.

The queen came to Modred then,
(Dearest to her of men,)
And told to him everything
Concerning Arthur the king,
How he would act in that day,
And how he the twain would slay.
Then Modred sent speedily
To Saxland across the sea,
And he prayed that Childerich,
A monarch exceeding rich.
Would swiftly to Britain fare,
(Of the land should he have his share — )
And he prayed of the king that tide
To send messengers far and wide.
East, West, and South, and North,
And bid all his knights fare forth.
Even all they met on their way, —
And to get them without delay
To Britain, and part of the land
Would he give into Childerich's hand;
North of the Humber all
Should be his without recall.
If he men to his aid would bring
Against Arthur his lord and king.
Childerich helped him in need,
To Britain he came with speed;
And Modred called on his men
To gather for battle then,
There were sixty thousand all told,
Hardy warriors and bold.
Who were come out of Heathennesse
For King Arthur's sore distress.
For Modred they came to fight.
That evil and traitorous knight!
And when all were come to the place.
Of every folk and race.
Rank upon rank did they press,
One hundred thousand, no less,
Of heathen, or Christian, that morn
Were with Modred the false and fore- sworn.
Now Arthur and all his host.
At Whitsand they lay, on the coast.
Too long seemed those fourteen days —
And Modred he knew always
What Arthur he planned and he wrought.
For tidings each day were brought
From the army that lay by the sea —
Then the rain, it rained steadily,
And the wind, it shifted at last.
And blew from the east full blast,
And Arthur gat him aboard
With every knight and lord;
And he bade his shipmen steer
For Romney, and have no fear.
There he thought him to land, and then
March inland with all his men.
When they came to the haven and shore
Modred was there before,
And ere ever the dawn grew bright
The hosts they had fallen to fight.
And they fought through the live-long day.
Full many there lifeless lay!
Some of them fought on the land.
And some on the salt sea strand.
Some from the ships' deck cast
Sharp spears, which flew full fast.
Walwain, he went before.
And cleared their path to the shore,
Eleven thanes did he slay
With Childerich's son, that day.
Whom his father had hither brought —
When the sun his rest had sought
Bowed was each British head
For Walwain lay there dead
And robbed of his life-days all —
(Through a Saxon earl did he fall.
Sorry be that man's soul!)
To Arthur 't was bitter dole,
Full sorrowful was his mood,
And he spake, that chieftain good,
(Mightiest of Britons he — )
"I have lost, ah, woe is me!
Walwain whom I loved so well,
E'en so did my dream foretell,
I deemed it would sorrow bring !
Now slain is Angel the king.
Who was mine own darling, and thane.
And my sister's son, Walwain,
Ah, woe is me for this morn,
I would I had ne'er been born !
Now up from your ships, and fight
As ye ne'er yet have fought, my knights ! "
Then, even at his command.
His warriors leapt to the land.
Sixty thousand all told,
Stalwart Britons and bold.
And they brake through Modred's host.
Well nigh he himself was lost!
Then Modred, he 'gan to flee
And his men followed speedily,
'T was a marvel to see how they fled.
The fields rocked beneath their tread.
And the stones in the river course
Jarred 'neath the blood-streams' force !
Full well had they ended that fight
Were it not for the coming of night.
Had the darkness but made delay
All their foes had been slain that day.
The night fell between the twain —
O'er the hills Modred fled amain,
He fled so far and so fast
That to London he came at last.
But they knew, the burghers stout,
How the matter had fallen out.
And bade him and his followers all
Abide there, without the wall.
Modred, he might not stay.
But to Winchester took his way,
And they gave him shelter there
And all that with him did fare.
But Arthur, with all his might.
Pursued after him forth-right,
And to Winchester came ere long
With a mickle host and strong;
With his army he sat him down.
And shut Modred within the town.
When Modred saw him so nigh
He bethought him craftily,
And oft he turned in his mind
What counsel he there might find.
And there, on that self-same night.
He called unto him his knights,
And bade them to arm them straight
And march out of the city gate,
For there would he make a stand
And fight for the crown and the land.
And unto the burghers he swore
Free law for evermore
Would they stand by him at his need
And help him with act and deed.
And thus, when it waxed to light,
All ordered they stood for fight.
Arthur beheld this thing,
Wroth was the Britons' king :
Then the trumpet blast rang clear,
And his men came together there,
And he prayed of his thanes forth-right.
And of every noble knight,
To help him, and fight right well.
That he might all his foemen fell;
And to level the city wall,
And to hang the burghers all.
Together they marched, as one man,
And sternly the fight began.
Then Modred, again he thought
In his heart, and counsel sought,
And he did in his danger there
E'en as he did elsewhere,
With the best could he traitor play
For treason he wrought alway!
He worked a betrayal grim
On the comrades who fought for him;
For he called from among the rest
The knights whom he loved the best.
And the friends whom he held most dear
Of the folk who were with him there.
And he stole from the fight away —
The Devil led him that day !
And left his good folk on the land.
To be slain there by Arthur's hand.
Thus all day long they fought.
That their lord was nigh they thought,
And they deemed that he took good heed
To succour them in their need.
But Modred, he went his way
On the road that toward Hampton lay,
And made for the haven then —
(Wickedest he of men ! — )
Of the ships he took speedily
All that were fitted for sea.
And the steersmen, one and all,
That no harm should his ships befall;
Thus Modred, that traitorous king,
Did they safe into Cornwall bring.

And Arthur his army cast
Round Winchester, fair and fast,
And all the folk did he slay —
Sorrow was their's that day ! —
He spared no soul that drew breath.
Young or old, all he put to death.
Thus the people to loss he turned,
And the city with fire he burned.
And then he bade them withal
To break down the city wall;
And thus was fulfilled the word,
Aforetime from Merlin heard:
"Winchester, woe unto thee,
For swallowed of earth shalt thou be!"
Thus Merlin the seer foretold,
Wisest wizard of old!

In York the queen abode.
Right sorrowful was her mood.
Saddest of women, I ween,
Was Wenhavere, Arthur's queen!
For she heard men say for sooth,
And knew them for words of truth.
How that Modred, he ever fled.
And Arthur behind him sped,
Woe was upon her that morn
That ever she had been born!
From York did she take her flight.
In secret, by shades of night,
And to Caerleon made her way
Swiftly, without delay,
Not for all this world's treasure-store
Would she look upon Arthur more.
Thus with but two knights in her train
At Caerleon she drew rein,
To the city she came by night,
And they hooded her there forth-right,
And a nun must she henceforth be.
Saddest of women she !
Then men of the queen knew naught,
Where she went, or what fate she sought;
E'en when many years had flown
The truth might by none be known.
And never a book may tell
In what wise her death befell,
And if in the water's flow
She cast herself, none may know.
In Cornwall was Modred then.
And he gathered to him his men;
To Ireland he sent with speed
Messengers in his need,
To Scotland, to Saxland, too,
Help from them all he drew.
He bade them come to his land,
All who would win to their hand
Silver, or gold, or fee —
Thus he guarded him prudently.
As a wise man will ever do
When need forceth him thereto.
Tidings to Arthur they bring,
(Was never so wroth a king!)
How Modred in Cornwall sped, —
That a mighty host he led,
And there he thought to abide
Till Arthur should 'gainst him ride,
Then messengers Arthur sent.
Through the breadth of his land they went,
And they bade every living knight
In the land, who had strength to fight,
To arm him, and come straightway. —
But if he would traitor play.
And hold with Modred, then
The king would have none of such men.
And whoever should take no heed
To do Arthur's will with speed sio

Should be burnt alive on the land,
Or slain, at the king's command.
Then towards the army sped
A folk unnumbered,
A-horse and afoot they came,
Thick as the falling rain.
To Cornwall marched Arthur the king.
With a mighty following.
And when Modred the tidings knew
Toward him he swiftly drew —
Countless the folk that day.
O'er many of them were fey!
To the Tamar their face they set,
By the river those armies met,
Camelford, did they call that shore,
And the name dureth ever more !
Arthur, he reckoned then
On his side, sixty thousand men,

But more by thousands were they
Who stood by Modred that day ! sa"
No longer would Arthur abide
But thitherward would he ride;
Bold were his knights and fleet.
They hasted their fate to meet!
On the banks of the Tamar river
The armies they came together,
The banners above them flew.
The ranks together drew.
Their long swords flash in the light,
Hard on the helms they smite;
The sparks sprang beneath the stroke.
The spears, they shivered and broke;
Cloven each goodly shield,
The shafts they splinter and yield ;
The folk they fought passing well.
Their number no man might tell;
Tamar, it ran on flood
Swollen with streams of blood.
Never might man in the fight
Know one from the other knight,
Who did better, or who did worse.
So mingled the battle's course.

For each, as he might, would slay,
Were he swain, were he knight, that day!
There was Modred of life-days reft.
On the field was he lifeless left.
And with him all of his knights
Were slain in that fearsome fight.
There too were slain, I ween,
Full many good knights and keen,
King Arthur's warriors brave
High and low, all found there their grave.
With every British lord
Who sat at Arthur's board,
And the men who bowed to his hand
Of every kin and land.
And Arthur was smitten sore,
Of spear wounds that day he bore
Fifteen, so deep, and so wide.
In the least gash two gloves might ye hide!
When it came to the end of the strife
Nor more were there left on life,
Of two hundred thousand men
Who lay hewn in pieces then,
Save only Arthur, the king,
And two knights of his following.
And Arthur was smitten sore,
Wondrous the wounds he bore!
Then a young knight came to the king.
He was one of his kith and kin, —
Son to Cador the keen.
Who earl of Cornwall had been,
Constantine was he hight,
Arthur he loved that knight —
The king looked his face toward
As he lay on the bloody sward.
And thus he spake to the lad
With sorrowful heart and sad:
"Constantine, thou art welcome now,
Cador's son wert thou,
I leave thee my kingdom here.
Guard thou my Britons dear
So long as thy life shall last —
And see that they still hold fast
The laws that in my day stood.
And King Uther's laws so good.
But to Avalon will I fare,
A maiden, she ruleth there.
By name Argante the queen,
Fairest of elves I ween !
My wounds shall she handle and heal.
Turning my woe to weal,
For sound is he who hath quaffed
At her hand a healing draught!
And then will I come again
And once more o'er my kingdom reign,
And dwell with my Britons dear
In great joy, and mickle cheer!"
And e'en as the words he said
Swift o'er the sea there sped
A little boat, and low.
That came with the wavelets' flow.
Within were two women fair
Who a wondrous semblance bare;
They took up Arthur the king.
And swift to the boat did bring.
Soft they laid down his head.
And swiftly from thence they sped.
Ah! then was fulfilled the word
From Merlin the prophet heard
That sorrow and woe should spring
From the passing of Arthur the king.
But the British folk, they say
That Arthur, he lives alway.
That held by a fairy spell.
In Avalon doth he dwell;
And each Briton's hope is strong
That he cometh again ere long !
And there liveth no mother's son
Who desire of women hath won,
Who knoweth a better lore
Or of Arthur can tell ye more.
But whilom was a wizard wight.
Merlin that man was hight.
And he said in words of truth,
(For ever his sayings were sooth,)
That Arthur shall come again.
And once more o'er the Britons reign!